


Obsessed with you

by Kiimo



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, Gender Issues, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, Set in the 70s IF i can manage it lol, Slow Burn, Unresolved Romantic Tension, drag!lupin, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:42:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiimo/pseuds/Kiimo
Summary: An endless game of cat and mouse, that's what their relationship is. And it's very well left at that. I mean, what kind of a story would it be if the cat suddendly confessed his undying love to the mouse? And if the mouse started chasing the cat?Or: how the relationship between inspector Koichi Zenigata and international thief Lupin the Third slowly began to change, and all the emotional turmoil that involves.
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Mine Fujiko, Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi, Ishikawa Goemon XIII/Jigen Daisuke
Comments: 55
Kudos: 141





	1. A sudden realization

**Author's Note:**

> A zooploop fic HAD to happen eventually after i got into writing so! here goes nothing. I have a plan for the next chapters and i'm sort of insane when it comes to writting, so i'm pretty confident in my ability to finish it.
> 
> Title is from "Obsessed with you" by The Orion Experience and it fits them,,, perfectly. I also made a playlist for them if you're interested: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLQHcxO1ICHLxVzEilf2l2KpVga8Hmonmq
> 
> Hope you enjoy reading it!

Zenigata's eyelids are falling. His head is incredibly heavy against his palm, and he keeps having to force his eyes back open. The letters of the paperwork sprayed around his messy desk swim in front of his eyes, and he's incapable of catching a single word.

He sighs loudly and drops his head on the desk with a heavy noise. When he picks himself back up, an even bigger sigh escapes his lips, whole body shivering with the weight of his responsibilities. He's at his 5th cup of coffee of the night, but he still takes a sip from the now tepid disposable cup at his side. The drink tastes bitter on his tongue, and does little to give him even a semblant of energy.

He hasn't slept in too long, knows he should just call it a night and let himself go back to the relative safety of his old hard and dirty bed, but he can't just stop working, not when he's working on something so important, not when he's working on the Lupin case! It's always about the lupin case, isn’t it? Always about Lupin. 

Even when he isn't actively working on the case, the thief is living rent free in a part of his brain, always yelling and clamering away. He could be eating an unsatisfying sandwich, or brushing his teeth or trying to sleep and a small monkey faced man would still run and hop around in his tired old brain. 

When he catches him, then he'll be okay, is what he tells himself. Finally the obsession will stop, and he'll be able to lead a normal life. He shuts down the thought that he has no idea of what a normal life is. And does he even want one? He pictures Lupin rotting away in some cell, and realises he can't conjure up an image of what his life would be then. 

Would he get a wife, raise a couple of kids, smile on the daily? He lets his mind wander to the image of a potential bride. Blonde hair, nice smile, pretty lips… The face keeps changing around until he realises he's picturing Mary, the drag persona of Lupin, with her blonde curly wig and tight red dress. He shakes his head, furious that the thief has such an influence on his mind that he even finds his way into his romantic fantasies. 

He slams his hands on his desk, spilling drops of cold coffee over it, and gets up to leave. He won't be able to do anything else tonight, might as well try to get a few hours of shut eye in. He pulls his old trusty coat on and gets ready to face the cold winds of the night. He's been in Paris for 3 days now, following a note from the international thief. It's always like this, Lupin calls him and he comes running, like a dog on a leash. A short leash. This time, Lupin claims he's going to steal the Mona Lisa. His exact written words were:

"Hey pops! I'm taking out a pretty gal whose eyes always seem to follow you from a glass pyramid. Come and try to catch me, but as you know, I'm irresistible to the ladies. Love, Lupin."

The familiar monkey faced winking cartoon of his face had the inspector fuming, and he immediately flew to France, in a commercial airline, his back aching the whole way. But the thief and his gang have been quiet since he arrived, and the guards he's got propped up all around the Louvres do nothing to ease Zenigata's worry, an intuition that something strange is afoot here.

After a relatively short but painful walk in the freezing cold, Zenigata finally arrives to his crummy little motel. As he checks into his room and drops on the bed, an even heavier sigh leaves his body. He's incredibly tired, his brain turned to mush, and he barely has the time to take off his shoes before falling into a deep dreamless sleep.

He feels like he didn't get a minute of sleep when his clock alarm rings, and he drags himself out of bed with an increasing weariness. When he arrives to the police station, a nice surprise is waiting for him. Another note is laying on his desk, with the classic smirking cartoon of Lupin's face, and a few words sprayed out :

" See you tonight at 8'o clock, dear! Don't be late. Love, Lupin. "

A rush of energy fills his whole being as he crushes the piece of paper in his hand. A loud laugh escales him, filling the small dim lit room. Finally! This torturous wait is over, and he's going to catch the thief this time. He's going to get his hands on him, and he'll finally be free from his emprise. 

Yes, he exlaims mentally as he groups up the guards and give them strict instructions, nothing is going to stop him now. It's finally going to be his time to shine, and the dangerous criminal will be behind bars, where he should be.

And then it's 5 minutes before 8, and he's standing in front of the Joconde, bouncing on his heels with anticipation. He's nervous, he suddendly realises, his hands fidgeting around the trusty handcuffs in his trenchcoat's pocket. He hasn't been this nervous in a long time, but it's because, he gleefully affirms, he's certain of his success this time. The whole place is on lockdown, well instructed and trusted guards everywhere. There's no way Lupin and Co are getting out of here.

2 minutes to 8 o'clock now. His heart is pretty much bouncing out of his chest, punching up against his ribs. He's picturing Lupin defeated face, wrists caught in the prettiest silver bracelets, cowering under him. The image brings up confusing feelings for a moment, but he buries them deeper and focuses on the task at hand.

And then it's 8 o'clock. And the Joconde isn't behind him anymore. He turns in shock at the screams of the guards around him, and stares dumbfoundead at the empty spot on the wall where the painting should be. How the hell did Lupin manage to do that, and right in front of him too? 

He suspects a trickery, some kind of illusion, but touches only the white granite as he feels for the wall. Panicked, he starts to shout orders, sending guards all over the museum. The thief can't have gotten out, there's no open or unguarded exit anywhere. He himself rushes to where he thinks the criminal might be, the glass pyramid. Lupin the third always had a flair for the dramatic, after all.

He arrives panting from his run up the stairs, and is delighted to find he was right. The thief is standing close to the glass wall, one hand in his pant’s pocket, the other holding the rolled up masterpiece, his back turned to him. There’s an helicopter coming in quickly, probably piloted by one of his acolyte. It’s likely to be Goemon, Zenigata think, with Jigen leaning on a high point, looking at them through his rifle. He feels sweat dripping down on his back at the thought of the sniper staring at him, viser on his forehead. 

Lupin turns when he notices him, a wild grin spearning on his cheeks:

“Ah Pops! I was wondering if you were going to show up. You look radiant as ever, glad to see Paris is treating you well. I’m sorry to cut this short but I really do have to go…”

“You’re staying right here!” Zenigata yells, throwing his handcuffs from his lasso. The latch on to the thief’s wrists with a satisfying “cling”, and Lupin drops the painting, a scowl deforming his feature for a microsecond. Zenigata knows he won’t stay in the cuffs long, so he runs up to him, exhilarating, pressing his body against the smaller man:

“I finally got you now Lupin! I don’t care about Goemon in that helicopter, and I don’t care about JIgen’s gun. You’re surrounded, and you’re going to jail!”

Lupin rolls his eyes, grin back on. 

“Oh sure,jail. Jail is definitely where I’m going. Love jail, love to be in it.” He raises his head up, gets on his toes, face mere centimeters away from Zenigata’s, eyes locked on his, defiant. “Face it old man, you never got me locked up for long, and you never will.”

Lupin’s smile feels a little strange on his face, almost forced. Zenigata notices he let some stubble grow on his chin, catches himself thinking it suits him. Their now familiar banter hangs in the air between them, but he finds he doesn’t have the strength to reply. He’s still so tired. And then it’s not just Lupin the Third and Koichi Zenigata from Interpol, playing a game of cat and mouse. Sudendly, this feels like a moment suspended in time, a little bubble they both stepped in at the same time, and where anything could happen.

Zenigata can feel Lupin’s breath on his face, is intimately aware of every place their bodies are touching. He feels a treacherous blush spread on his face, hope it’s too dark for the other man to see. And really, his body has no business reacting that way to his archmenisis. But Lupin is so, so close to him, and he almost feels like he’s going to reach out and kiss him. He almost wants to lean in, wants to have this, wants to take it. 

But then he hears a cling, and Lupin’s free hands are cupping his jaw, and the huge mocking grin is back on his monkey face. And Lupin does lean in, drops a loud smack on Zenigata’s cheek, before pushing him away with all of his strength. Zenigata lands on his ass, sees Lupin grab the painting and run up to the glass wall as a shot from Jigen’s faraway riffle breaks it.

“Thanks Pops, it was fun, see ya next time!”

Lupin grabs an hanging rope from the helicopter, and he’s already too far away for Zenigata to catch him as he reaches the edge of the pyramid. The thief blows a kiss at him, all sardonic smiles, and Zenigata wants to grow wings and punch the smirk of that face, and teach him a lesson or two. He’s left fuming on his own, yelling at his prey escaping once again and stomping on his hat in rage as guards come in, always too late.

He should have brought in reinforcements, he should have gotten Lupin restricted immediately! He should have gotten the painting safe. He should have done anything, really, but gaze longingly into his enemy eyes for a beat too long and think about, what, kissing him? What the hell is wrong with him?

And then it's the endless stream of angry french people yelling at him, in words he has trouble understanding. He eventually shuts it out and goes into automatic mode, bowing and proferring his most sincere apologies when appropriate. He promises a thousand times he'll get the painting back, that he'll risk his life for it and that no, nothing is more important to him than this mission.

Lupin's face is all over newspapers, and Zenigata feels a familiar sense of shame begin to swallow him. He's got leads, of course, of where the painting might be. He knows most of Lupin's contacts for selling stolen goods, and he's been looking over hem and making calls for the past few days. Still, the thief got the better of him, again, and he's afraid he might not get the Mona Lisa back. Most of all, he's afraid he'll never win. On top of that, he still has no idea how the thief actually got the painting off the wall, and that worries him to no end.

He's on his flight back to Japan when he loudly sighs, fingers pinching the beak of his nose. He's been looking over the same dossiers over and over for the past 2 hours now, and his seat is too small, his back hurts and he's stuck between a snoring old man and an hyperactive kid who keeps yelling into his ear. He's so incredibly tired he wonders how he hasn't passed out yet.

And he can't even focus on his work because Lupin keeps popping up in his brain. The ghost of Lupin's hands on his jaw, his breath on his mouth, the stubble on his chin… Zenigata is all turned around, and he'd really prefer to not think about it, but he's never been too good at keeping Lupin out of his mind.

What the hell even happened back there? It felt entirely different from their usual interactions, like they were on the edge of something dark and terrifying, but exhilarating too. Zenigata hasn't been able to think of something else, really, but Lupin's face so close to him, and of his ugly unwanted impulse to kiss him.

This is all so wrong! He wants to find Lupin, to put him behind bars, to have him do his time. He's an upstanding member of Interpol, his whole life dedicated to applying the law, his whole life dedicated to Lupin, to catching him. And sure, he respects the man, might even think he's got some good in him, but he never wanted to kiss him before!

It keeps going on like this even when he's back in Japan. He buries himself in his work but keeps getting distracted by unwanted thoughts of the criminal winking at him, laughing loudly, of his hands in cuffs, of his fingers grazing his neck. It doesn't help that his work is literally all about his distraction, and he's getting desperate, thinking he might never get the Mona Lisa back, and that he'll be fired from Interpol, a disgrace to all.

He can't eat, can't shower, can't work can't drive can't sleep without Lupin's face appearing behind his eyelids. He dreams of him every night, and every morning he fails to remember the details, only the face of Lupin looming over him, like an annoying omen. 

Whenever he lets himself think about the thief for more than a few seconds, he feels sick. He gets sweat running down his neck and back, feels his heart beating faster, like it wants to break out of his ribcage. So he doesn't think about him, doesn't let himself, since it makes him so ill. 

Denial is a pretty useful tool. He doesn't let himself think of wild grins, of fingers grazing his arm, of colourful shirts and ties, or of red lipstick and blond curls, doesn't let himself hope. Because in that moment, Lupin also looked like he was ready to lean in, to take what he wanted. Zenigata has no idea what it means, has no idea what he wants it to mean. He's in a permanent state of confusion, which isn't great for an inspector.

He's drinking his 4th coffee of the day and taking a cigarette break by the window, staring at the busy and colorful streets of Tokyo beneath him, trying to think of nothing. Of course, thinking of nothing now means thinking of Lupin, and he starts wondering where the thief is right now, if he's also looking at the sky, if they're gazing at the same moon.

The thought is oddly romantic, and he chastises himself for it immediately, a blush crawling up his neck. But then the image of Lupin raising his eyes up to the sky, face resting on a loosely propped up wrist, a cigarette between two fingers, a lazy smile on, comes back, stronger, and a wave of repressed feelings rushes over the inspector. 

He bends over the railing of the window, feeling like he might puke. His heart is going to break all of his ribs and escape out of his chest, spilling out on Tokyo’s citizens. He's going to die, right there at the window of his crummy little Interpol office, without ever catching Lupin, without ever seeing Lupin again. Lupin… 

The man fills his entire brain, turning it into goo. It's all rushing into him at once. Lupin's long agile fingers, his fuzzy sideburns and chin stubble, the twinkle in his eyes, the grin on his lips, all of his infuriating banter, his long legs perpetually caught in a run or a leap, Mary popping up in his romantic fantasies, his slender body always getting away from Zenigata at the last second, his chest pressed against his, his grandiloquent declarations, his golden heart under all of the crimes…

Zenigata doesn't just respect Lupin, he doesn't want to catch him just to uphold the law. He wants to kiss him, wants to hold his hand in his, wants to be the one to make him laugh. He's in love. With Lupin the third.

He's in love with Lupin the third.

Zenigata is in love with Lupin the third.

It all suddenly makes sense, the constant running at his beckoning like a well trained dog, the need to be close to the man, the desperation he always felt when he got away...A burning passion threatens to completely swallow up Zenigata, making him combust and leaving only a pile of ashes to be spread over the busy streets, a pile of ashes screaming his love to Lupin.

Oh my god he's in love with Lupin. The thought keeps repeating in his mind, overwhelming him. He's in love with Lupin. 

Holy shit he's so fucked.


	2. Sugary cocktail

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Here's the lupin pov chapter. He's a thousand times more oblivious, and I'm taking advice from a friend to take this slowler, so we're getting into some slooooooowww burn, like the type of dish that takes 2 night and a day to cook. 
> 
> I'm quarantined because of the virus, so I think I'll be able to publish the next chapters quicker? Maybe? No promises though.
> 
> Have a nice read!

Goemon spares a glance at him and the painting, staying focused on his driving. It's always hilarious how well Goemon can drive any number of vehicles. Kind of sticks out like a sore thumb out of the old traditional samurai schtick. 

"So it's in good condition?"

"Of course!" Lupin lurches forward next to the driving seat and pretty much shoves the canvas in Goemon's face. "Look at this baby, absolutely flawless!"

"Ah that old Leonardo" he sits back on the ground of the helicopter, completely ignoring the actual seats. "Sure knew how to pick them, what a beauty." He dramatically lays a hand on his heart, whole arm flinging around. "A man after my own heart."

"Did everything go smoothly back there?" Asks Goemon "Things seemed a little touch and go for a moment with Zenigata."

"Oh sure." Lupin gets up. "You know old Pops, I always have him eating out of my hand." Lupin did think something was sort of strange in their interaction, something new and awkward and just a little scary...But who cares about old Zenigata anyway! He doesn't have time to worry about that, he's got a Mona Lisa to sell, and a party to plan! He's giddy with his success, and he's so ready to throw the wildest party in his own honour.

"What about Jigen?" asks Goemon, eyes fixed on the horizon.

"He's joining us at the hideout. Were you not listening when I was explaining the plan, bud?"

"I was...meditating." A blush crawls up on Goemon's face, and Lupin chuckles. He always sort of suspected that Goemon's mediation was sometimes a front for the samurai just straight up taking a nap. The satisfaction of being right fills him with even more joy. God he's having a great fucking day!

Their helicopter trip is short, and Goemon lands them in a clearing in the woods. They can't show up at the hideouts on the suburbs of Paris in a helicopter after all. So they abandon the helicopter in the middle of the woods and walk up to their trusty yellow fiat 500, that they previously hid between bushes and branches.

Lupin gets into the driving seat with a satisfied sigh. He's in love with this car, he thinks as he strokes his hands on the steering wheel. It's been his trusted companion through the years. If anything ever happened to this car, he'd burn every last person who touched it. If he could make sweet love to it, he would. That's how much he loves his fiat 500.

He starts up the motor, listens to it purr like a contented fat cat, and starts driving through the forest while humming a tune. Goemon sits in the back, even though no one is in the front, legs crossed and katana resting on his chest, and closes his eyes, trusting Lupin's driving abilities.

After a calm and easy trip, they arrive at the hideout, a big unremarkable house in Paris' suburbs. Its only surprising feature is a bright blue front door, which Lupin just adores. It's exactly his style. He walks through, yelling :

"Honey we're home!"

Jigen's head pops out of the kitchens, a smoke hanging out of his mouth, hat glued on his head, hiding his eyes. He slowly smiles, almost cat-like.

"Took you guys a while."

"Yeah well blame it on Goemon's driving skills" replies Lupin while dropping the Joconde on the kitchen table. "Look at this beauty instead of complaining."

"Wow" concises Jigen, pocketing his cigarette so as to not drop ashes on the canvas. " You fucking did it Lupin."

"Hell yeah! So tonight, we celebrate!" He yells out, dancing wildly around the room.

"Wait, hold on!" blurts out Jigen "Do you even have a potential buyer for it? We can't just keep the Mona Lisa Lupin!"

"I'll get on it after we party! There's a bunch of people who'd give their entire fortune to get their hands on this baby, so don't you worry your pretty beard about it." 

Jigen grumbles, clearly unconvinced but ready to let it go for now.   
"So party? Party everyone?" Tacking their lack of answers for acceptance, Lupin goes up to the phone hung on on the wall. "Great! I'm calling Fujiko." 

Jigen reacts at that: "What? Don't warn that bitch, she'll just steal it right from under our noses!"

"Hey!" Lupin points an angry finger at his gunman. "Don't call my angel a bitch, she would never do that to us."

"Yeah, except for all the times she did. You're a fucking idiot Lupin."

"Yeah yeah, well, takes one to know one." He dials the number and listens to the tone, wrapping the phone's cordon on his finger, for 1, 2, 3, 4 ringtones before finally hearing Fujiko's angelic voice.

"Yes, you're speaking to Fujiko Mine."

"Fujicakes, it's me, your obedient knight!"

"Oh, Lupin. Hi." Her voice is bored. He's about to make her care though.

"Guess who I'm looking at right now. A few clues: she's really old, her eyes keep following me around, and she's a reaaaal hottie. Oh, and her name is Mona"

Fujiko squeals into the combinee, splitting his eardrum.  
"Oh my god Lupin! Did you actually manage to steal the fucking Joconde?"

"Yup. It's right in front of me as we're talking. So, wanna come celebrate with me?" 

"Oh, alright. I don't have anything planned for tonight anyway, but you're paying for all of my drinks!"

"Sure thing, I'm about to be the richest man you've ever kissed anyway!"

"Hmm, I wouldn't be so sure about that, I've kissed a lot of stupidly rich grandpas."

"Well, nevertheless, see you at 9 o'clock tomorrow for the night of your life." He gives her the address where they'll meet, and showers her with a few compliments and idiotic love words, before hanging up. After her obviously, like any true gentlemen would.

He turns back to Jigen laying on the sofa, slow clouds of smoke flying from his cigarette, thin arms crossed behind his head, waves of pure angry judgement emanating from him.

"What?" asks Lupin, throwing his hands in the hair. Silence from the gunman. "What is she even gonna do? The painting stays here, a location that she doesn't know, safe and sound, while we go out and get fucking trashed!"

Jigen still looks like he doesn't trust the thief, but mercifully closes his eyes, letting Lupin win the argument. And now, he's going to crash on his bed and sleep forever. He's been up for 48 hours now, planning the heist and then accomplishing in it. This hideout has silk bed sheets. His life is absolutely perfect.

He dreams of pretty girls dancing all around him and stripping their clothes, of champagne flowing everywhere, of wads of bills flying all around him. He's pretty sure Zenigata shows up too, but he doesn't remember exactly how. 

He wakes up at 4pm, his stomach grumbling. He jumps out of bed, doesn't bother to put anything on top of his underpants, the ones with little red hearts all over, before heading to the kitchen. They planned everything well, and the fridge and pantry are stocked, so he starts making himself a sandwich.

He hasn't seen Jigen or Goemon yet, figures they're coded up in their own corners of the hideout. He eats in silence, figures he should probably get started on finding who he'll sell his masterpiece to. In the meantime, he put it in a a safe, with a bunch of different combinaisons and booby traps. Ehe booby. 

He takes a nice long shower, takes the time to really pamper himself, before getting dressed, slapping on a mask and going out into the shiny world. He finds a newspaper dealer, and is over the moon at seeing his smiling face all over. Never gets old, being in the center of the attention. He relishes in it, almost wants to rip off his mask and yell at the vendor, just to see what'll happen.

He keeps his hands close to his side instead, restrains himself and goes for a nice little walk in the suburbs, whistling a tune, checking himself out in every magazine. They all talk about the tragedy of it all, and the enigma behind how he did it. He finds a few interviews of Zenigata, who promesses he'll catch the awful thief and put him behind bars.

He chuckles, pictures good old Zenigata bending over himself trying to figure out how he did it. Poor bastard must be running around, barely getting any sleep. It's funny, really is, but something strange tugs at Lupin's heart for a second there. Oh well, if he worried about every weird pangs of his heart, he'd have been put into a early grave a long time ago.

He gets back to the hideout, a few newspapers rolled up under his arm that he plans to show off to Jigen and Goemon. He still has a few hours to work on contacts, but he thinks he's better off letting potential buyers reach out to him. His face is, after all, printed all over the world, right next to the Joconde.

So he drops the newspaper on the table of the still empty living room, peels out his mask, yells out "Get ready to fucking party guys! We're leaving in an hour." and heads to the bathroom to get ready.

He's going to look positively drop dead gorgeous tonight, he affirms. Heads will turn, and Fujiko won't be able to look away from him. He shaves cleanly, combs his hair all proper, and even puts on a bit of blush, lip gloss and mascara on. He stares at his wardrobe for a bit, glad he took some nice outfits on top of his usual disguises into this hideout. 

He eventually decides on some canary yellow elephant leg pants, that fit nicely over his ankle and wrap tightly around his bottom, making it pop. With it, a white puffed shirt, and an orange jacket, with an assorted bowtie. He both looks like a poisonous frog and like the sexiest man ever, which is exactly what he wants. A perfect look for under the spotlight. 

And then it's already time to get going, and he finds Jigen and Goemon waiting for him in the living room. Jigen absolutely tears into him for his outfit, rolling over the couch with laughter, and even Goemon esquisses a smirk, one that he quickly hides in the palm of his hand. 

“Whatever! What do you guys even know about fashion?” Lupin crosses his arms over his chest, face flushed, bruised in his ego.

“More than” Jigen starts but is interrupted by another irresistible bout of hysterical laughing, bending over and clutching his belly. “More than you apparently. You look like you got dipped in honey and left for the bears! You look like a hooker bee. Not the fancy type of hooker bee, the real down in the dirty flowers type! You look like a carpet fucked a clown!”

Even Goemon can’t repress a bark of a laugh at that, even if he at least has the decency to look guilty about it afterwards.

“Hey! Fuck off already, or you’re not getting a cut of the Mona Lisa check.” That does eventually get those bastards to calm down, but Jigen keeps smirking at him in a satisfied way. Lupin can’t even reply accordingly, because JIgen actually looks good. Even seems like he took a shower, which is highly unusual for him. He’s in a dark blue suit, slightly fancier than the one he usually wears, with golden cufflinks. On top of all of that, he took of his hat and put his clean (Lupin can’t emphasize how strange that is) hair in a loose ponytail.

Goemon didn’t change a thing about his look, refusing to compromise his samurai code or whatever. Lupin grumbles about them getting late to get out of this sudden roast, and leads them to the fiat. He drives quickly and nervously, eager to get to the bar, even more eager to get blasted. This isn’t the best beginning to this wonderful celebration all about him, but he’s ready to turn it around, preferably with alcohol.

They arrive on the strike of 9 at the bar. RIght as he steps out of the driving seat, a bike stops in front of him in a cloud of dust. Its driver, clad in a tight leather suit and black high heels, takes off her helmet and shakes burning red locks of hair, before letting them fall on her shoulders. Fujiko is absolutely stunning, and Lupin goes all heart-eyed over her, bends down in a salute and goes to hug her. She actually responds in kind and wraps her arms around him, laughing in his ear. And boy doesn’t that send all kind of butterflies up in his stomach. 

She leaves to properly park her bike, and walks back to him, rolling her hips and bouncing her hair from one shoulder to the other. Holy fuck he loves her so much. She could rob him blind, has done so before, and he’d thank her profusely for it. He’d steal the entire world just to give it to her, just to see her smile for a second. He offers her his arm and she takes it, a mocking grin on.

“Lupin, why do you look like a hooker bee?” His face crumbles.

“That’s what I said!” yells out Jigen from the bar.

Great, so no one around him can appreciate a good outfit. Wonderful.

“Aw come on, don’t be upset. You’re the sexiest bee I’ve ever seen.” She pats his arm, a mean smile on. The worst thing about this is that it actually kind of works at soothing his bruised ego. God he’s stupid for this woman. 

They walk in the bar, and it’s already pretty packed, sweaty bodies bouncing around. He navigates to the bar and gets a martini for himself and a fruity sugary cocktail packed with vodka for Fujiko. He doesn’t need to ask her what she wants, knows all of her favorite drinks. 

After grabbing the drinks, he heads into a corner booth where she’s waiting, a coy smile on. She unzipped her leather jacket a bit, revealing a gorgeous red low cut shirt and an even nicer decolletage. Oh, she’ll kill him one day, and he’ll be fine with it. He drops next to her, hands her her drink and sips his martini, a grin spreading on his face. 

“So” she asks “how did you even do it Lupin? How did you steal the Joconde?”

“You’re not gonna believe it. It’s great, it’s going to change the way we see robbery forever. I’m going to go down in all the books as the best thief in the history of thieving.”

“Spit it out already Lupin!”

He spreads his hands in the air, imaginary drum rolls hyping him up. Fujiko’s eyes are wide and waiting.

“Nanobots.” 

Her face falls flat and she stares at him for a while, unimpressed.   
“Nanobots?”

“Yeah, nanobots!”

“It’s always nanobots with you Lupin, you’re becoming a one trick pony;”

“Nanobots are great though, especially those. Just you wait until I tell you how these little scrapers made the Mona Lisa… disappear!" 

He can tell he peaked her interest, takes the time to sip his martini, creates some suspense.

"So" he starts again, hands moving around wildly "I got a hundred of nanobots in a secure pocket, right? And when I released them on the painting, they covered it with a very precise camouflage filter, making it look like the wall. Then it was easy to displace it back to me. I know, I know, I'm a genius. Save the praise for bed.

"How did you manage to get them on the painting in the first place?" He's picked her interest now, and she's looking at him with hungry eyes.

"Oh that was the easy part! I just infiltrated the French police force a few weeks before. It was absolutely hilarious to see Zenigata tell me in intricate details the protocoles to catch the great thief Lupin the third, not suspecting a thing. He stood this close" he holds his index and thumb together "without realising it was me under a max. Gut busting I tell you."

Uh. There's that weird pang in his chest again, at the mention of Pops. Only lasts a second, but it feels weird. Oh well, he doesn’t worry about it for long, losing himself in Fujiko’s eyes, as well as looking a bit lower too. 

“Well, great job. So listen, if you need a potential buyer, I know a couple of guys...” And then starts their negotiation back and forth. He doesn’t want to hand her over the Mona Lisa, knows he just might, if she asks enough times, if she smiles enough, knows she knows it. It’s a game too, all part of their flirting. 

Eventually she gets up, leaves her empty drink and goes to dance. And then he gets lost in the rush of partying, body loose and wild on the dancefloor. They play a sort of game in places like this, him and Fujiko. From the corner of his eye, he sees her cozying up close to a burly guy with a square jaw, before grabbing his hair and kissing him. Her eyes are set on Lupin the whole time. She winks at him. She started it, the ball is in his court now. He asks a delightful little brunette for a dance in a graceful bow, and drags her closer, feels her tongue on his, keeps his eyes on Fujiko, winks back.

They keep at this all night. At one point he shoves a guy Fujiko just kissed against a wall, tastes her disgustingly sugary cocktail on his lips. He thinks he saw Jigen and Goemon huddled up close together in a corner booth at some point but the alcohol washes away the memory. Plus, who cares about these guys, they insulted his fashion sense and, unlike Fujiko, won’t have the decency to kiss him better after! He thinks bitterly, for a second, about how distant his gunman has been the past few weeks, pictures him pushed again the kitchen counter of a louzy hideout about a month ago. But then there are hands on his hips and he happily forgets about it.

By the end of the night, Lupin and Fujiko are laying on the floor of a luxurious hotel room, bottles surrounding them, counting points.

“That’s 28 for me.” mumbles Fujiko, tongue heavy with alcohol. “I win.”

“No, no, noooooo” slurs out Lupin, head on her stomach. “Because I got 2 of yours, so that means…” he closes his eyes, tries to think through the thick cloud turning his brain into molasses. “I steal 2 points from you. So I win. Ah!” He points a victorious finger in the vague direction of her face.

“I also got one of yours asshole. So…”

“Stalemate?”

“Ah! I guess.”

It really is a fun game, Lupin thinks. His favorite part happens now though. Because when they’re tired of doing dumb math and playing with each other feelings, they let go of pretenses and have a go at each other. She tilts his head forward with her perfectly manicured finger, a slow smile spreading on her lips. Even after everything she did to him, he feels perfectly safe in those moments with her. Because behind all the airs and pretend detachment, he knows she loves him as much as he loves her. That she wants this a much as he does. 

And they do have lots of fun together, he thinks as she starts tenderly kissing him and running her fingers through his hair. They’ll never get married, never have kids or be anything resembling normalcy, but he doesn’t need any of it. Just needs Fujiko’s by his side.

There’s that weird pang again, like a small needle slowly stabbing his heart. He’s starting to get tired of this weird feeling he has no idea how to explain, so he closes his eyes, buries it deep down and lets himself have fun, lets himself have this, lets himself have her.

He wakes up with the ray of the sun painting his skin golden and Fujiko’s arm on his chest. He smiles slowly, savoring the moment before the hangover headache hits him. Holy shit he needs water. He gets up slowly, trying not to wake up Fujiko, and heads to the bathroom. When he gets back, she’s gone. He smiles to no one in particular. Predictable. 

When he gets back to the hideout, he’s welcomed by a few notes, from potential buyers begging him to get in touch. He reads through them all, decides on a certain Henry de Lamarine. Man’s an absolute bastard, dabbles in violent crime more often than Lupin takes a shower, but he’s the one offering the highest price, by far, and Lupin needs the money. Well, not exactly needs, but wants for sure.

He decides he’ll let everyone marinate for a bit and he’ll call the guy in 2 days, figures he’ll be able to get even more that way. He stretches, looks around the living room. Then a wave of exhaustion washes over him, and he decides he could definitely get some more sleep. His last thought, buried under his blanket, is, strangely, of Zenigata worrying himself over the case, his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked reading this! Kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated, and you can come chat with me @kimodraw on twitter if you want.


	3. I'll never see that girl again, he did it as a gag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Andrew in drag by The Magnetic Fields
> 
> Hope you like this chapter! It was super fun to write, I love to make Zenigata suffer lmao.
> 
> Here's a good quote from Richard Siken, for free : "The enormity of my desire disgusts me." have fun with that

The thing about inspector Koichi Zenigata is that he’s very good at his job. Excellent even. One of the best in his field. And he’ll keep doing his job no matter the hardships life sets in front of him. He could be in the hospital with everyone of his bones broken and he wouldn’t give up working. So a crush? No way will he let that get in the way of his mission. There are too many people relying on him.

So Zenigata gets really good at compartmentalizing. During the day, he only thinks of Lupin in simple terms: thief, criminal, enemy, dangerous man who needs to be put behind bars. He looks over every contact he knows the thief has, actually learns of a few new ones, thinks he’s getting closer to finding out where the Joconde might end up. He talks to his colleagues, actually socialises like a normal person, genuinely smiles a few times. His boss tells him he’s doing a good job and she trusts he’ll find the Mona Lisa eventually. He glows internally.

It’s at night that things have changed. When he’s done with his workload, when no one is around, then he opens up the little door in his brain. And everything flows back into him, crushing his heart and making it sing at the same time. The terms surrounding Lupin have become incredibly complex. The man is surrounded by contradictory feelings, fighting inside Zenigata’s heart. Hatred towards his crimes, love for the way he laughs when committing them. Fear of what he could do, respect of what he already does. Images of Lupin’s quick fingers, of his slightly crooked smile, of his gleaming eyes, fill his mind.

In those moments, he thinks it will just overfill him, that all of these feelings will start leaking out of his brain, or maybe make him explode. He thinks he’ll die like this, in a ugly little apartment, curled up on a stool, looking at the moon and thinking of his sworn enemy, without ever seeing him again. Looking at the night sky has become a habit too. He can’t shake the stupid notion that Lupin might be looking at it at the same time he is, that they have this in common at least.

And so he sits here, thinks of wild grins, of echoing laughs, of filthy jokes and filthier winks, of thin wrists caught in shinny cuffs, of angry fistfights, lets his heart drip drip drip love out, like a broken faucet. He doesn’t know what will happen if he does catch Lupin now, doesn’t see it as his saving grace anymore. It’s still his duty though, and he’ll accomplish it without hesitation. But there’s no joy in his heart when he thinks of Lupin rotting in prison. He just wants to see him again, wants it so desperately it makes every atom of his body ache with need.

He no longer lets himself think of a “normal life”. He realised that was never in the cards for him, not really. He tries not to think of getting a wife, because he can now only picture Mary in a white dress, or Lupin in a tuxedo. Or Mary in a tuxedo, Lupin in a dress, he doesn’t care, would accept anything he’s given. He wants everything Lupin is and has to give, and he knows he can’t have it. So he looks at the moon, lets his heart slowly burn away.

He dreams of Lupin every night again, but now he remembers them upon waking up. It makes him want to keep his eyes closed, to bury himself in his bedsheets. He doesn’t want to go into the real world where he’s a lonely 50 year old with nothing to look forward to but a life of duty. He dreams of tender kisses, of whispered confessions, of fingers laced in his, dreams of all the things he pushes down during the day. His nights become his safe haven.

Still though, he’s very good at his job, very good at bottling his feelings and pretending they don’t matter in the slightest. So when he receives a new note from Lupin on his desk, he doesn’t immediately crumble into a pile of yearning goo. His heart does feel like it’s been stabbed tough. He grinds his teeth, pushes through the pain, puts it on the back of his mind, and reads Lupin’s writing.

“Time to ditch that old trench coat Pops. See you at the Met Gala. I heard they’ve got a pretty jewel there. Love, Lupin.”

Zenigata hates how his heart does somersaults at the last sentence, even though it’s the way Lupin ends all of his notes. The thought of actually hearing the thief say those words to him, with no irony or hidden purpose, absolutely kills him. Time to bottle, bottle bottle all of it deep down. He closes his eyes, shakes his head, lays the note back on the table. When he opens his eyes back up, he’s inspector Zenigata again, and he’s ready to his job. The Met Gala is in 3 days, he has to fly to America immediately. He’ll need a lot of reinforcement, but they’ll have to be discreet. This is another huge heist, if Lupin actually gets his hands on that jewel, Zenigata will be in a new huge heap of trouble.

So Zenigata gets his things in order, and flies to America. He thinks of Lupin’s lips on his the whole way, can’t stop himself. He figures he might as well, doesn’t have anything to do while he waits for the 12 hours the flight takes.

When he gets there, the american police officers are rude to him, don’t believe in the threat of Lupin, don’t believe an old japanese guy will succeed in catching him. He feels himself growing furious at the way they’re treating him, ends up yelling at a few of them. He knows it’s bad to lose his temper like that but he’s never been too good at keeping his cool in situations of stress. Still, they give him a few men to add to the gala’s security. None of them respect him, but he’s used to getting scraps.

He has a day and a half to try to figure out the gang’s location and get ready for the evening. He rents a suit, a dark blue one, actually likes his reflection for once. He fails to locate the gang’s whereabouts, and fails to keep Lupin out of his mind, both during the night and the day.

And then he’s standing in the middle of one of the most glamorous place he’s ever seen. The ceiling stands tens of meters high. Huge chandeliers make the room shine bright in every corner, and everywhere he looks there’s a celebrity dressed in something worth ten times what he makes in 5 years. They all shine too, so beautiful wrapped in their money. He feels incredibly self conscious and out of place, like a kid in his father’s clothes. His suit is too tight, he feels his back pouring with sweat. But he barrels through the self hate, reminds himself he has a job to do.

He hasn’t seen anyone from Lupin and Co yet, but he worries they’re wearing disguises, so he stares at every guest, glad he learned the entire list of who is supposed to be here by heart. He knows Lupin could still have kidnapped one of them and replaced them, but he feels the thief wouldn’t want to do it that way. He likes the spectacular, the thrill of being under the spotlight. He loves his masks, but loves the whole world seeing his bare face even more. His heart tugs at that, a painful reminder of his unwanted feelings.

And then he sees her, and his heart drops to his feet. Oh why did he have to do this to him? Dressed in a shimmering bright red evening gown with an open back, a champagne glass in a hand, the other gracefully covering up a laugh, standing about 10 meters away from him, is Mary. Zenigata is so fucked. He can’t do this, can’t be there, can’t believe he thought he’d be fine when he would see Lupin again. The door has been kicked down, all of the feelings overtaking his brain. No more compartimalisation for him.

He hurriedly tries to pick up his ugly little heart from the floor, when the band begins to play, and some guests start to pair off to dance. And Mary sees him from across the room, and a mean grin spreads on her face. He’s dead. Or he’s about to die, doesn’t matter since this is clearly hell. He wants to run away, doesn’t know where, but his feets stay stuck on the ground and his eyes on hers. She winks, grin still on, lays down her glass and walks up to him. How the hell did the bastard even get fake breasts that realistic?

“Will you give me this dance?” Mary extends a perfectly manicured hand. Red nail polish. Jesus, Zenigata gets it, Lupin likes a colour theme. He a stares at her nails for a bit too long, remembers he has to reply.

" Quite unusual for the lady to ask the man out to dance" He puts his hand on top of hers without thinking, a decision taken only by his nerves and his heart with no consideration for his poor old brain. She smiles wildly. "I'm quite the unusual lady"

She puts her other hand on his shoulder. He lays his on her waist, shaking, and they slowly start dancing. It's a waltz, and he takes the lead. Or, well, she lets him, probably. He tries to think of why he hasn't arrested Lupin yet, but his brain is suddenly very foggy.

"I have the place surrounded.” he whispered “I could have you arrested right now."

She lets out an exaggerated gasp, dramatically raising her powdered up eyebrows. “What for, incapacitating an officer by making him blush?”

He does feel a traitorous heat gather on his cheeks at that, hates himself for it, hates Lupin more.

“Shut up. I know it’s you Lupin.” His voice is hoarse, gets caught in his throat for a second.

"Oh jee, I’m caught.” She smirks “I think you like it." Zenigata is just fully red now, scowls, his mind racing for a reason as to why he still hasn't called for reinforcements.

"Well, I think you're going to jail."

"Doesn't mean you don't like it." Her voice is all slow and seductive, like champagne flowing through his veins. She must have stolen as few tricks from Fujiko.

"You wanna know what I think?" She drags her nails on his neck, grabs him by the back of it, drops her voice low to the familiar Lupin one, mouth achingly close to his ear.

"I think you're a dirty old cop with a thing for guys in dresses."

He stops in his tracks. They’re standing still in the middle of the room, surrounded by dancing couples. His hands clutch around her fingers and dress, nails digging into her waist. She hasn’t let go, he can feel her breath on his ear. His mind fully short-circuits, he can feel the heat of her hip under his palm and her nails digging in his scalp, smell her expensive perfume. All of his nerve ends feel exposed and raw, all of his senses overwhelmed.

They’ve stepped into another bubble, away from time and everyone else. The air feels hot and heavy around him. He wants to run away. He wants to dissolve into the ground. He wants Mary to push him into the ground and shove Lupin’s tongue in his mouth. He’s forgotten all about his duty, threw his whole job by the window. None of it matters anyway, not really, could never matter as much as these fingers lacing his and this cheek almost touching his. There’s a thing about a jewel, right? The thought is at the edge of his mind, but most of his brain mass is dedicated to restraining himself from kissing Mary’s neck, so he can’t quite grasp it.

And just like that it’s all over. The song ends, and Mary pulls back, a sardonic grin on. She lets go of his hand and neck and quickly walks away. He’s still stuck, staring at her. He’s all short of breath, like he just ran a marathon. Then he sees Fujiko, in a gorgeous dark blue nightgown, slowly walking towards Mary. Her expression is calm but she’s holding something in a tight fist. Zenigata furiously shakes his head. The jewel! He needs to get it together right now, or another priceless artefact will slip through his fingers.

Desperately trying to close the door in his mind, he runs towards Fujiko and gets her into a headlock. This causes a commotion, everyone around them screaming, getting away or trying to get him to stop, but that’s the last of his concern right now. He snatches the jewel from her fist.

“Interpol! You’re under arrest.”

Fujiko struggles under him, tries to get out. “Fuck off pig!” He thinks he has her under lockdown, but she drops down on her heels and high kicks him in the chin, revealing a small pistol strapped to her thigh. He’s taken aback, vision blurred. He feels blood coming out of his nose, hope it isn’t broken. That always takes way too long to heal. He goes to wipe it away, tries to discern anything through the fog in front of his eyes. This entire mission has gone to absolute shit. And he can still feel the ghost of Mary’s breath against his neck.

He sees Fujiko and Lupin running away, and nobody is even trying to stop them. Fucking bourgeois he swears. He runs after them, blood dripping down his chin. His skull is ringing, a deep pulsating pain on his forehead. He hopes he doesn’t have a concussion. At least he got the jewel safe. But god dammit he can’t let Lupin get away again! Where the hell are all his guards? God he hates americans.

He follows them out of the building, pushing through well dressed assholes who don’t seem to care about anything but the glasses of champagne in their hands. Their fiat 500 is already out front, driven by Goemon. Oh, he’s so fucked. Fujiko and Lupin jump in the car and off they go. He tries to run after them, but his legs just can’t compete with a car. Lupin rips out his wig and throws it at him, a victorious laugh echoing through the hair.

Zenigata falls to his knees, his breath short and heavy, watches the car drive away. He feels like he’s going to puke out both his lungs and his heart on the asphalte. The jewel is cold against his palm. Blood drips down on his knees, staining his black pants. Now he’s not even going to be able to get the deposit back on his rented suit. He drops his head on his knees, feels harsh sobs run through his chest. The heavy weariness is back, enveloping him tightly.

He stays there a while, just sobbing and bleeding, replied on himself. No thoughts go through the heavy fog of sadness and exhaustion surrounding his mind. No one comes, so he figures the american cops must have just fucked off. Great. At some point, the tears run dry, and he feels himself growing calmer. Calm and empty. He gets up, slowly. Dries the blood off his face with his already ruined sleeve. He looks at the jewel in his hand. Shiny, and gorgeous, but freezing. He walks up to the blonde wig laying on the ground a few meters away, crouches down and picks it up.

He runs his fingers through the soft hair, brushes the grimm of it. Before he can think or stop himself, he brings the wig to his face and inhales deeply. Mary’s perfume is still heavy on it. He feels tears coming back to his eyes. He has never been good at repressing emotions. Always cried a lot, fought a lot. He shouldn't keep the wig. It’s evidence. You don’t mess with evidence when you’re a good cop. He pockets it. He clearly isn’t a good cop anymore. Good cops don’t fall in love with criminals.

Lupin’s last words echo in his mind. A dirty old cop with a thing for guys in dresses. He should feel vindicated at the phrase, or at least angry. That is, most definitely, not what it makes him feel though. A huge wave of guilt and shame overflows him, but underneath that, well… Lupin wasn’t exactly wrong, was he? And there goes more shame, but he can’t get the image of Mary and the way her dress fitted out of his head. He’s in so deep.

He gets the jewel back into the gala, is celebrated for bringing it back. None of these americans care about catching Lupin anyway, they’re just happy their little party didn’t get fully ruined. He gets back to his hotel in his bloody suit, heart heavy. That’s when he realises dancing with Mary opened another door in his brain. Thinking all the time about Lupin wasn’t new. And dreaming of holding his hand was a shock, but it wasn’t that much of a difference.

But the images that pop in his tired old brain are of a different nature now. He thinks of Mary shoving him into a wall, of teeth grazing his lips, of Lupin dropping to his knees… He’s been intimate with people before obviously, has had a few girlfriends. And every time he was deeply in love with them. And every time, they left him because he loved his job more. It all sort of makes more sense now, he guesses.

Anyway, he’s had thoughts of this order for his exes, mostly when he was younger. The whole passionate fire in his loins thing has calmed down since his 40’s. The point is, he’s not a blushing virgin or anything. But at the time, his thoughts didn’t take over his mind every second of the day. That probably has something to do with having his feelings being reciprocated by his exes. Actually being intimate with someone helps to not constantly think of their fake boobs.

There’s also the matter of Lupin being, well, a man. But this doesn’t come as that much of a surprise to Zenigata, actually. He remembers having a short bout of feelings for a friend in high school. He also remembers burying those feelings deeply. For someone so loud with his emotions, he’s actually pretty good at repressing them too. This thing he’s got for Lupin is too huge to repress though. Too big to hide away, too heavy to forget.

There’s just so much shame surrounding those feelings. Between Lupin being a man, being a criminal, being his sworn enemy, being drop dead gorgeous in a dress...there isn’t enough room in his heart for all of his guilt. He’s kept the wig, buried it in a drawer. And he doesn’t look at the drawer either, pretends it doesn’t exist. That doesn’t take away the mental images of Mary though.

He thinks maybe he’d like to be free of the shame. He’d like to try to think of Lupin in clearer terms, without the tight ropes of guilt surrounding his heart. Because all of this is keeping him from getting an unblurry picture of his possibilities, of what he can do about all this heaviness in his heart. Because bottling it doesn’t actually work, is what this whole endeavor has made clear. And even through the pain of self hatred, he knows he wants to see Lupin again, wants to chase the high of his body close to him.

It’s really all he can think about, seeing Lupin again. He’s walking around, the enormity of his desire crushing him. He goes back to Japan, thinks he sees the thief everywhere. He spends his days waiting, waiting for a note, for a clue, for anything.

The other thing that destroys him, that he barely lets himself think about because it’s far too much for his already burning heart, is Lupin’s own feelings. Because the scene with Mary was...well it wasn't their usual banter for sure. And sure, the thief loves to mess with him, and loves a good show even more. But still, Mary’s voice like liquid fire in his veins, Lupin’s breath against his ear, the nails dragging on his scalp...This all feels like, well, like something. Like maybe the thief has got more than he’s letting on behind his skin.

And doesn’t that just kill Zenigata, the thought of his ugly shameful feelings being reciprocated. Those thoughts only come to him in the darkest of the night, when he’s too tired to chase them away. And they make him burn away in his crummy little 2 room apartment, a deep passion filling him with embarrassment. Because what if this isn’t all just a pipe dream? What if he could actually follow his heart over his brain, get what he so guiltily but passionately desires? What if, what if, what if…

None of those fantasies help him in the slightest. He’s stuck waiting around like a sad abandoned dog, thinking of nimble fingers undressing him and of short hair against his palms. He has no idea what to do about any of this. And he still isn’t any closer to finding the Mona Lisa. So every day he thinks of how much he wants Lupin, and every night he thinks of Lupin wanting him back.

Again, he’s so fucked.

My wonderful friend drew some fanart of this chapter!!!! Look at it it's so incredible. You can find her @YouFoule on twitter, she's amazing, go give her some love, go!!!!


	4. A pity she does not exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter, but that's how it be sometimes. Also it's mostly Lupin thinking about his gender lmao. Hope you like it!
> 
> Title is still from Andrew in Drag by the Magnetic Fields because god what a good song it is.

“Tadaa!”

Lupin throws his hands in the air, an eager grin on his face. And stays there for a beat too long. He’s not exactly expecting applauses but, well, fuck it, yes he’s expecting applauses! It’s a damn good plan. But everyone's just looking at him quizzically. Fujiko opens her mouth, then closes it. Jigen is the first one to speak.

“So why are you going as Mary?”

“What?”

“I mean you could go as anyone. Hell, you could go as yourself. So why Mary?”

“Why not?”

JIgen raises a dubitative eyebrow. 

“What? Can’t a guy just put on fake boobs for a heist?”

Jigen raises his hands defensively. “Hey man no judgement here. If you want to put on a dress and lipstick I’m not stopping you, but don’t pretend it’s ‘part of the plan’ ”.

“Yeah Lupin we don’t care about you doing drag” interjects Fujiko “But this has nothing to do with the heist, you just want to be Mary for an envenning.”

Lupin stutters, tries to come up with an appropriate reply. They might be right, but like hell if he’s going to admit it. Fujiko stops him in his tracks.

“Otherwise I think the plan works, thanks Lupin. I’m going to get ready.” 

And they all leave to get prepared for the heist, living him alone to worry at his bottom lip and over their words. So what if he wants to put   
on a nice dress, smile at old men and daintily eat some expensive snacks for an evening? Doesn’t mean anything. 

He tries to ignore that he’s missed being Mary, that he’s been waiting, almost desperately, for an occasion to put on her blonde wig. That it’s not just another costume, that he likes being her, that she feels like a second skin. He feels seen, validated in her red dress. He shakes his head. Whatever, he’s gotta remember what matters : the prized jewel that Fujiko will purloin while he distracts the rich bastards present at the gala.

And then he catches Zenigata’s eyes, and he’s dancing and he’s running away and it’s the most fun he’s had in a while. He throws his wig away victorious and lets Goemon drive off into the sunset. He’s still riding on top of his personal little cloud when they get back to the hideout, a quiet smile on. But then Fujiko starts tearing into him.

“What the hell was that Lupin?” Her face is furious, and not the sexy kind of furious either. 

“What?” He straight up has no idea why she’s so mad. It’s hard to get down from his post heist and post Mary high.

“The jewel you moron!” she angrily hits him “We did all that for nothing!”

“Hey hey hey calm down! How the hell is this even my fault? You’re the one that was holding it!”

“Your job.” her voice is ice cold. She mercifully stopped hitting him but a scowl deforms her gorgeous face; “Was to distract. You were the distraction Lupin. If Zenigata gets me in a headlock and snatches the jewel away from me then that’s. Your. Fault.” 

“I… I was out there, you know, distracting him. I clearly was a really good distraction, so it’s your fault for not being sneaky enough.”

“I’m don’t have to be sneaky if I know there’s supposed to be a fucking distraction!”

“Yeah and I saw that distraction.” Jigen interjects, angry too, his hands curling imaginary quotes on the last word. Oh my god is everyone going to get on his case tonight? “Seemed like you were having a lot of fun. Also seemed like you completely forgot about the job we were on.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t think whispering sweet nothings to a cop and almost shoving your tongue in his ear actually helps up achieve anything!”

“I! Why I never! And …” Lupin stutters again, feels a traitorous blush crawl up his cheeks. What the fuck? No for real, what in the everloving fuck?

“Whatever.” JIgen’s voice is still angry, his eyes hidden by his hat. “But you owe us one man.”

“Hey! Who in here got the Joconde uh? I’m the best fucking thief in the world ok! You all got nothing on me! And that jewel? I’ll steal something worth ten times more next time, alright! Hell I could steal it back right now, all by myself. So could you all please kindly get off my fucking case?”

He angrily storms off. Who the hell do they think they are anywyay? So what if they didn't get the jewel? Not everything is about money for fuck sake. And they’ll still get paid anyway.

Really though, who gives a fuck about the jewel? He had fun, that’s what matters. That’s always what matters. He gets up to his room, kicks off his high heels, takes off his dress and fake breasts. He’s not in the mood anymore. They shot him down from his perfect little cloud of bliss, and now all he wants is a hot shower to wash off his makeup and his anger.

Letting the slowly warming water hit his back, he sighs and reminisces about the night. He did have a lot of fun. It’s always fun being Mary, winking at old men and watching them lose their shit, hearing heels clack on the floor as she walks, head held high. Uh, she. Well, it’s not like he’s going to use he and his for Mary right? But well, she’s him. But it feels weird to think of Mary as a man, even if it’s him and he’s a man. Ugh, he shake his head, closes the faucet and reaches for some shampoo.

His good mood is slowly starting to come back as he remembers fake laughing at bad jokes and talking in a high pitched voice. God it really is so fun to be Mary, so nice to have idiotic men bending themselves over her. Like, sure, Lupin isn’t bad looking, he can get pretty much any willing girl in his bed, and he has lots of shady hookups with guys to prove it too, but it’s different when it’s obviously straight millionaires stuttering in front of him. Her. Whatever.

The high point of the evening, he grins while remembering, was of course, messing with Pops. As soon as he saw him, he knew things went from great to awesome. And actually making Zenigata lose his shit, like he’s any other millionaire to mess with? Incredible. Lupin can’t believe he hit the nail right on the head with that men in dresses comment. Really fucked the poor guy over. 

He actually feels a pang of compassion at that, wonders if he really hurt Zenigata. Wait what? Who cares if he hurt Pops? That’s part of the fun! And he’ll get over it, always does, always goes right back to chasing him. He sighs longingly. What would his life be without good old inspector Zenigata running after him? Calmer probably, but also much more dull. He should send him a thank you card one of these days.

The inspector blushing face pops back in his mind. It really did seem to make a number on him, the whole Mary sing and dance. He remembers calloused hands grasping at her dress, nails digging in her palm. Can still feel Zenigata’s heart beating fast against her chest. He sort of wonders, just for a second, if his reaction would have been different if he was dancing with Lupin instead of Mary. Then he thinks of dancing with Zenigata, without the pretence of a distraction, and he doesn’t quite know what that make him feel, doesn’t want to think about it too much.

Zenigata’s hands were sweaty in hers, and his suit poorly made, but his fingers fitted nicely against hers. And Mary kinda liked how he looked, all flustered and blushing. Lupin, standing below a hot rush of water, sort of likes it too. He doesn’t really know what to make of that. 

He steps out of the shower, starts drying himself, checks himself in the mirror. All of the makeup is gone, he’s back to being Lupin. Feels good about it. It’s no good to start blurring the line between Mary and Lupin. He doesn’t want to get stuck playing her part. Because that’s all she is, he affirms, a part. A costume to wrap himself in and dance on a stage for a while, before taking it off.

He’s thinking about Zenigata’s expression again, remembers his voice all hoarse and kind of broken. Why does he keep thinking about it? It was just harmless fun, a new way to mess with his favorite cop. And yet he can’t get an angry little black blot from leaking out of his heart. Almost feels like guilt. Which is just absolute bullshit. He’s always messed around with Zenigata, that’s just how their relationship work.

Except that wasn’t exactly their usual banter, a traitorous little voice whispers. It was just a bit more. He wonders if he went too far, clutching at the man’s neck like that. Wonders if maybe Jigen saw something close to the truth. But fuck it, no, no, he didn’t do anything weird or wrong. He was just being his usual self. Zenigata’s the one being fucking weird.

He’s stuck in a loop, thinking of Zenigata eyes widening when he saw him. Her. Fuck. Thinks of Zenigata stopping at his words, breath stuck in his throat, thinks of his reddened face. What the hell was that even? He suddenly remembers seeing Zenigata at the Joconde heist. That was weird too. Less weird than this little Mary debacle, but weird nonetheless.

The way they stood bare centimeters apart, how he could feel Zenigata’s breath on on his face, how Zenigata looked all flustered, like he could barely keep himself inside his skin...Sort of how he looked when Mary danced with him. It’s all strange, and new, and Lupin is somehow afraid he’ll fuck something up and fall head first into something he has no idea how to navigate. 

He thinks of Zenigata looking like he wanted to kiss him, like he wanted to kiss her even more. He wonders if he went too far, worries at his bottom lip for a while, glad to know he’s not spreading lipstick on his teeth. Mary just acted on instinct, without thinking, when she lowered his voice and whispered to the inspector. And now that Lupin is down from his little cloud, he can look at himself in the mirror and calmly ask : what the fuck was that?

Sure, Mary likes to have fun. But coming close to having Zenigata shove his mouth against her? Surely that’s going way too far. Urgh, now he’s thinking about kissing Zenigata, ew. Ew? Yeah, ew, right? He stares in a void for a second, terrified that disgust might not be the only thing rising up in him as he pictures smearing bright red lipstick over Zenigata’s lips.

Okay, whatever, fuck this entire affair. He’s tired of thinking about it, of questioning himself over and over again. Arsène Lupin the Third doesn’t question himself, or overthink things. He heads straight into danger, and figures things out when he needs too, and only then. Firmly shoving Zenigata out of his mind, he heads to bed, and falls asleep quickly, with the determination of a man with a masterpiece to sell the next day.

And then he goes to sell said masterpiece. He meets with Henry de Lamarine early in the afternoon, in a cafe. They both agreed to it: a public place, witnesses everywhere, so that neither of them would try anything funny. Of course Lupin knows Lamarine has guards set up all over the place. And of course, JIgen is perched up not too far away, surveilling them through his rifle. And of course, Lamarine knows this too. It’s all for show. Which is fine, Lupin loves a good show.

He rests his leg on his knee, mindlessly bouncing his foot, and takes a sip of his far too expensive coffee, staring at the man in front of him. Mr de Lamarine is an old tall and muscular man, with thick eyebrows, a thick jaw and a thicker neck. He has blond hair - but Lupin assumes he dies them - and piercing blue eyes. He’s wearing his naval uniform, chest and shoulders decked in shiny medals. Lupin absolutely despises him.

He did his research on the man, knows he made his fortune by stealing artefacts selling them back to France, as well as dabbling in slavery and a lot of arms dealing, all under the cover of his service in the navy. Real convenient for him, all of the sailing around the world. He’s even received the french Legion of Honor for his service, and that’s just crass. Lupin also knows the man holds a bottomless well of cruelty in his heart, that he’s killed countless minions with no ounce of regret to get what he wants. Or sometimes just for fun. He has a wife and children, and Lupin’s heart aches in sympathy for them.

Still, the bastard promised him an incredible amount of money for the Joconde, so the choice was simple. And anyway, there will always be time to come back at him. Lupin’s really good at that. Revenge is a dish best served cold. They say that in french too. Lupin likes that. Lamarine puts a suitcase on the table, opens it. Lupin quickly counts the euro bills. It’s the right amount, and he closes the suitcase, puts it under his seat.

“I have flown all the way from Paris to be here.” Lamarine’s accent is thick, and his voice deep. He’s hitting all the r’s harshly. Lupin almost wants to laugh, thinks the man might be a crime king but that he’s still a fucking dumbass. “So if I do not see what I am paying for right this instant, I am going to get pretty crossed. And you do not want to see me crossed, Mr Lupin.”

Lupin represses a snicker. Jesus, so dramatic! Still, he complies, and takes out the wrapped up painting from his bag and hands it to Lamarine. He thankfully is smart enough to not unwrap in the middle of this crowded square. 

“I trust, Mr Lupin, that you know if my experts realize this is a copy, your days on this earth will be counted. No matter how good of a forger you are, my people can always tell.”

Lupin is getting tired of all this manly bravado. He gets up and grabs the suitcase.

“I would never dream of crossing you Mr de Lamarine. I trust I can leave you with the bill?” And he leaves, an hand in his pocket, the other around the most cash he’s ever held in one place, whistling a tune, the perfect picture of nonchalance.

When he meets back with Jigen, they throw the bills in the air, laughing away in the bliss of monetary opulence. He’s going to buy some perfume and jewels for Fujiko, in the hopes of being forgiven. Maybe he’ll buy some for himself too, what the hell. 

Goemon joins them, and they have a nice meal, with lots of sake flowing around. Lupin feels good, really good, a quiet happy fire burning in his chest. This, he gently realises, feels like home. Just eating with his friends, laughing way too loudly, tears falling down his cheeks at Jigen almost puking on Goemon, this feels like family. And isn't that a nice thought to contemplate, as he’s about to pass out from what might be alcohol poisoning.


	5. Tomatoes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! This one gets pretty dark! Tw for death, gore, and a description of a panic attack. Maybe don't read this chapter if you're in a bad mental place.  
> Still, hope you enjoy it, it was fun to write!

Zenigata is burning away, the enormity of his desire enveloping him. He can’t spend a minute without thinking of Lupin. And the weight of his shame is crushing him, heavy on his sloped shoulders. He hasn’t been able to decide what he should do, only knows he desperately wants to see Lupin again, needs it so badly his entire body aches. He pictures a rope tying his heart to Lupin’s finger, knows he’d never be able to severe it, doesn’t want to anyway.

He loses himself in his work, in his pursuit of Lupin. But since the jewel failed hiest, the thief has gone quiet. It’s been 2 weeks and he hasn’t received any note. Ence the burning away. It’s awful, really, this constant pain in his heart, these persistent shivers of desire traversing his body. He wants it to stop, but he doesn’t want to live a life without Lupin. God, he just wants to see him again.

He doesn’t smile anymore, doesn’t crack jokes with his colleges. His boss asked him if he maybe wanted to take some time off, concern clear all over her features, since there aren’t any news in the Lupin case anyway. He strongly objected, terrified at the thought of spending time off. He thinks he’d just curl up and let himself die if he had to stay alone in his apartment.

And so he waits around, desperate and bored out of his mind. Until finally, his salvation appears in the form of a small piece of paper on his desk. He almost cries at the sight of it, breathes in real deep to keep the tears out of his eyes. When he’s regained a samblence of sanity, he reads the note, heart crawling up his throat.

“Hey old cop! Guess what I’m gonna be decked in pretty soon? It’s red and covered in diamonds. That’s right it’s the Nightingale of Kuala Lumpur! And by pretty soon I do mean in 2 days, bet you can’t wait to rinse your eyes. Love, Lupin.”

Zenigata reads and re-reads the paragraph, stares at the little winking Lupin face. Oh the bastard. The absolute fucking dipshit. He’s teasing him, playing with his heart like a cat with a mouse. Those comments stab him right through the chest: old cop, just like that “dirty old cop with a thing for guys in dresses”. Betting he can’t wait to rinse his eyes. Oh Zenigata could just about kill him.

But covering his rage is a burning blaze of bliss, pulling the corners of his mouth in a wild grin. Finally, Lupin sent him something! And he’s going to see him again in nothing more but two days! Oh god he’s going to see Lupin again. Zenigata has no idea what he’ll do, knows he will have to try something. He can’t let this go on, his heart won’t be able to take it. He has to talk to Lupin, to try to untangle the mess of strings connecting them. 

The dress is stored in a museum in Malaysia. On his way to it, he tries to get as much info on it as he can, and fuck. Obviously, he can’t stop picturing Mary in the dress. Or Lupin in it. Whatever. It’s red, because of course it is. It’s also covered in diamonds, and it costs 30 millions dollars. Zenigata can’t help but think it looks sort of ugly. But hell, what does he know about dresses? And he certainly doesn’t think the thief wearing it would be ugly, so he quietly shuts off that train of thought.

All of the planning flies by, Lupin being the only thing in his mind, and then he’s standing right in front of the dress, guarding it, his heart pounding in his chest. Seems like that’s all he does, waiting around priceless artefacts for Lupin to show up. There are a few guards with him, as well as the museum’s director, who insisted on staying to protect the dress as well. She seems like a nice woman to him, if a bit overbearing. She clearly cares deeply about the things put in her care, and she at least takes the Lupin threat seriously. She’s agreed to not moving the dress, like he told her, and she’s pacing anxiously next to him, hands restlessly tugging at her dress shirt.

“What if he doesn’t actually show up? What if...” Before she gets to finish her sentence, a cloud of smoke explodes in front of them, blocking Zenigata’s view of the dress. Curse this bastard and his love of dramatic entrances. When his view clears, the dress is gone, and he can see Lupin running away. He’s not carrying the dress, but Zenigata doesn’t care. His legs start moving automatically, and he’s running before he can process it. It’s Lupin! Lupin’s here! Who cares about the dress, it’s ugly anyway, Lupin’s here!

The thief is leading him through dark hallways. Zenigata’s heartbeat is loud in his ears, along with his breathing and their steps, and he’s glad he did a whole rundown of the museum earlier that day. He knows where they are, has the advantage of not being lost. And this route Lupin is taking? It’s a dead end. Zenigata smirks, though he doesn’t know if Lupin knows or not, doesn’t know what cards his enemy holds.

All the same, Lupin stops against the wall. He turns around, and starts laughing. It’s not a natural laugh, not the kind of laugh Zenigata wants to hear from him. It’s evil and mocking, and Zenigata’s almost scared. Still he walks up to Lupin until he’s less than a meter away, tries to catch his breath. The thief doubles over with laughter, slapping his knees. When he looks up again, his face is distorted by a mean grin. 

“Hi Pops, it’s sooo good to see you again! So hey, see how I’m not carrying any priceless, well not priceless, just worth a fuck-ton of money, dress? That’s right, I was the distraction again! Et toc*!”

“I don’t care.” Zenigata is breathless, his voice rough. And his words are too honest, too raw. He just revealed too much, pulled back his sleeve and shown the bleeding heart on it to Lupin. The thief’s eyes open wide, the sardonic expression gone to leave only shock, if only for a second.

“What do you mean, you don’t care? Fujiko must already be out of the place with the dress. You know, the one you were hired to protect? What kind of a cop are you?”

“I don’t care.” His voice is firmer, louder too. Fuck it, he might as well just go all in. “I wanted to see you.”

That shuts Lupin up. The mocking expression is gone, which warms Zenigata’s heart. The man even flushes for a second, and isn’t that interesting? But then his brows furrow, and he starts to look more and more pissed by the second. LIke there’s something he’s not getting and that’s just absolutely infuriating to him.

“What the hell do you mean, you wanted to see me? This isn’t a goddamn date old man!” He punches Zenigata in the chest, but not strongly, not really putting any strenght behind it. It still hurts, but Zenigata stays in place. And Lupin’s fist stays there, right against his throbbing heart.

They’ve stepped into another bubble, Zenigata realises. They seem to keep doing that these days. Zenigata has no idea what to do. There’s no procedure for this, no manual for courting your sworn enemy. Lupin’s eyes are wide and locked on him, his brows still furrowed. They’re so close from one another. Zenigata could count Lupin’s eyelashes. He doesn’t, his brain far too foggy for any kind of math. He’s just noticed that Lupin’s lips are naturally pretty red. Or maybe he’s wearing lipstick right now. Either way, Zenigata is zoning out on the thief’s lips, dress completely forgotten.

He leans in closer, can feel Lupin’s breath against his skin. The thief is looking up at him, and Zenigata thinks he can see what looks like fear in his wide eyes. Fear and something else. Lupin opens his mouth, closes it again. He looks like he’s at a same loss for words as Zenigata. And isn’t that just a kick in the chest, to think that neither of them are in control here, that neither of them know how to navigate this ocean of feelings between them. Lupin licks his lips. It takes every inch of restraint Zenigata has to not just bend down and chase his tongue. And he still twitches, leans down.

Lupin must feel how fast his heart is beating against his fist, can’t not have noticed it. He still hasn’t said anything. Slowly, his fist starts to uncurl. And suddenly, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, his palm is resting against Zenigata’s chest. Zenigata can feel his pulse through it, and it’s almost as fast as his. Lupin looks down at his hand, like he’s surprised it’s there. He twitches nervously, pulls back. But only for a second, and then the heat of his hand is back on Zenigata’s shirt. 

Zenigata has no idea what this is, no idea what he could say to keep Lupin’s hand right here, against his engorged heart. Lupin is the one to talk, in a whisper.

“What kind of a cop are you?” he repeats, voice all soft. 

“Not a very good one apparently.” Zenigata’s own voice is rough, deeper than usual, feels all raw and bleeding, like his heart.

They’re so close. Zenigata would barely need to move to kiss Lupin. It would be so easy, to do this right now, to softly embrace the thief, to push him against the museum wall. And Zenigata wants to so bad, wants to close his eyes and finally know what Lupin’s lips feel like, wants to put his hands on his chest and run his fingers on every inch of his body. The worst thing is he thinks Lupin wants it too, wouldn’t push him away. The more Lupin looks at him, eyes wide and face sort of flushed, the less reasons he can find to not kiss him right now. He leans down, half closes his eyes.

And he hears a gunshot. And a scream. He pulls back, shocked. Lupin shakes his head, looks like he’s about to say something, and looks away. He pushes Zenigata off of him, and runs away without a word. Zenigata lets him go, face flushed, heart beating at 100 miles an hour. Then he actually registers the scream, and what it means. It was a woman scream. He starts to run towards it, fear spreading like ice in his veins. A terrible presentiment is coming to him. God let it not be her.

He arrives to the main room and almost falls to his knees. The museum director is laying on the ground, a halo of dark blood around her head. He runs up to her, knows it’s too late, knows it’s all his fault. One of the guard is standing a few meters away, his gun drawn and still fuming. His face is distorted by absolute terror.

“I.. I didn’t mean to… She was standing right there and I was told to shoot the thieves before asking questions but I missed and I… Oh my God I didn’t mean to…” The man is crying, gun shaking furiously in in his clenched hands. The director’s face is cold against Zenigata’s finger. He closes her eyes with trembling hands. Then he gets up and takes the gun from the man’s unresisting hands, lays it on the ground. 

His face is closed when he explains everything to the people in charge, when he see the director’s body being dragged on a stretcher. He really liked her. He feels empty. The night is long, filled with people yelling at him, asking for explanations he doesn’t know how to give. It was a misfire, happens sometimes, is always ugly. She didn’t have much relatives, only some distant family. And a cat, which will be given away. Zenigata spends hours standing in front of people he can’t seem to register, seeing right through them, giving the same answers over and over.

Yes, he was trying to catch the thief, and so he was away from the scene. Yes it was Fujiko Mine the guard was trying to shoot. No, he doesn’t know exactly what happened. He’s dismissed right before dawn, and slowly walks up to his hotel. He can’t feel anything, can’t think anything. It’s like he’s moving inside a thick cloud, preventing him from doing anything more than moving around and breathing. The walk is supposed to be long, but he doesn’t feel it, is surprised when he arrives and the sun is already shining over the horizon.

He falls into bed without removing his shoes, falls asleep without realizing it. His dreams are dark and heavy, enveloping him tightly and crushing his heart. He wakes up and she’s still dead. His first thought is for Lupin’s lips.His second is for the blood under his fingernails. He hates himself so much. He stares at the ceiling, can still feel Lupin’s palm against his heart, and a cold cheek under his fingers. 

Zenigata is no stranger to death. You can’t be, when you’ve come this far in his job. He’s never gotten used to it. He doesn’t think you can ever, or then maybe if you do, you stop being human. You become something else, something that doesn't care about about still hearts and cold mouths. Still, he’s seen corpses before. It’s not the gore that bothers him, although he can’t get the images of the lifeless body out of his mind.

No, it’s the guilt of course, that eats him alive. Because he knows it’s all his fault. And there’s nothing to do, is there? He can’t take it back, can’t change what he’s done, can’t make her heart beat again, no matter how badly he wants to trade his life for her. He tries not to breathe, tries to take as little space as possible. Thinks maybe if he tries hard enough, he’ll disappear, and then maybe she’ll be alive. It only makes the breathes he does take more deep, more ragged and desperate. It only reminds him more of the body he inhabits, of the life he has to keep living while an innocent woman lost hers.

His cheek feel wet, he hears sobs, but distantly, almost like someone is crying in another room. It’s him though, he’s the one crying. He digs his palms in his eyes, tries to force himself to shut up, just shut up you idiot, only sobs harder. He can smell the blood under his nails. He didn’t take the time to wash last night of course, and the putrid smell makes him want to puke, a vivid reminder of what he’s done.

Sure he wasn’t the one holding the gun, but if he had been there, he could have stopped it. If he hadn’t been chasing Lupin for no reason other than his personal gain, a life could have been spared. He’s drowning under the guilt, taking big gulps of air that don’t quite reach his lungs. He bends over in a sitting position, chokes on nothing, grabs at the sheets. Oh my god, could he die like that? Yes, he thinks, and he’d deserve it too. Deserves to die miserably where no one knows his name, keeled over on an ugly little bed, gasping and choking. His head lands loudly on his knees. His thoughts spiral, death wishes repeating themselves over and over again in a angry voice. 

He finally takes in a real breath, his lungs burning. Then he takes another. He sounds like a broken industrial machine. He keeps taking deeper and deeper breaths, until his chest stops feeling like it’s been stabbed by a thousand needles. He brings shaking hands to his face, dries his tears. Lupin’s flushed face comes back in his mind. He feels like puking. He gets up, legs barely able to support him, and walks to the small bathroom, to empty his stomach into the toilet. It’s mostly bile, he hasn’t eaten in a day. It hurts, but not as much as everything else does, so he doesn’t focus on it.

He rests his head on the cold porcelain, tries to see what’s in front of him instead of dark shadows. He doesn’t know how long he stays there, but at some point he gets up, body working automatically. He washes his face, rubs at the blood under his nails. He can see the’yre clean, but he keeps rubbing, doesn’t feel like they are.

There’s nothing left to do in Malaysia, so he gets back to Japan. His boss forces him to take a leave. Trauma and all that. He stares at the walls of his appartement. He gets up to pee. He eats sometimes. He stares at the ceiling. He tries not to think of dead empty eyes. He fails. He tries not to think Lupin. He fails even more. 

Eventually, he comes to a conclusion. He doesn’t realise it at first, not until it’s grown so big and obvious he can’t think of anything else. He has to let go of Lupin. He has to hand over his badge. Because if he doesn’t, this’ll keep happening. He knows he’s not strong enough to resist the thief, to do anything but chase after him as soon as he appears. And people will keep getting hurt, because he won’t be able to do his duty. 

It hurts, but it’s almost a good kind of pain, this swelling of his heart. Because finally he’s doing something, instead of getting carried by the elements. And he thinks he’s doing the right thing. He waits around for a few days, to see if he can do it. See if he can actually hold on to this last sense of duty, see if he can really let Lupin go. He thinks maybe someone else will catch him. The thought is an ugly one, lights a fire of jealousy in his heart, so he tries not to think it too much.

One morning he dresses as nice as he can, shaves cleanly, and leaves his apartment. He knocks on his boss’s office door. She looks surprised to see him, a bit angry too.

“Inspector Zenigata? You’re supposed to be on leave. I know how much the Lupin case means to you but you need to…”

“I know.” he interrupts her, a calm smile on. “I want to be taken of the Lupin case.”

She stares at him like he grew a second head. 

“You what?”

“I want to be taken of the Lupin case. What happened in Malaysia…”

“What happened in Malaysia wasn’t your fault.”

“With all your respect Ma’am, yes it was. I failed to my duties, and I’m afraid I no longer feel able to work on the Lupin case.”

“Well, if you’re sure about it…” She’s concerned, doesn’t understand his change of heart. He doesn’t blame her, still isn’t sure he understands it either. “Do you want to be assigned to a new case then? 

He’s taken aback by the question, hadn’t thought this far. What does he want to do? What is there even to do, in a world without Lupin? Suddenly, the image of him standing in a small garden, surrounded by big tomatoes, appears in his mind. He’s wearing overalls. The picture is absurd, almost makes him burst out with laughter in the middle of his boss office. But it’s also oddly appealing, and he can’t let it go.

“I think...I think i’d like to go on vacation for a while, Ma’am, if that’s a possibility.”

She looks like the second head just grew a third smaller head, and they’re yodeling together. Then she smiles, and he feels his heart warm a little at it.

“Well, of course you can take a holiday Koichi. Hell you’ve never taken a single sick day. So if you want to take a whole sabbatical, that’s alright in my book. Send me a postcard.”

And just like that, he’s free. Free to go where he wants, to do whatever. He cleans his desk, takes all the pictures of Lupin he’s got pinned to the walls. It’s incredible, he thinks, that so many years of his life can fit in a medium sized cardboard box. He spares a last look for his emptied office, and leaves for his vacation.

Still thinking of the small Zenigata in overalls and his tomatoes, he decides he’ll get himself to the country. So when he gets home, he books a hotel in a small village he picked at random, looks up trains schedules, and packs his whole life in his small grey suitcase. He leaves the Lupin pictures in his apartment, only takes one in his wallet. It’s old, the colours all washed by years of exposure to the light. It’s a close up of a younger Lupin’s grinning face. Zenigata has always been fond of this picture. He thinks he can allow himself this one thing, this one reminder of 20 years of his life.

The village he picked is beautiful. The air is pure, fils his lungs with something that could almost be hope. It’s all very picturesque and small, right out of a postcard. Speaking of, he sends one to his boss as soon as he gets there. Maybe she was joking, but she deserves to know he’s ok. And he wants to do it, this small normal thing. He writes that the place is very beautiful and peaceful, that he’s already feeling better, and he thanks her. The postwoman smiles at him, all genuine, and he feels some of the dread in his heart evaporate. Maybe he’ll be alright.

His hotel is nice too. It’s run by an old couple, who constantly chatter about the village’s gossip. And his sheets smell like lavender. He walks in the mountains surrounding the village, goes up to the river, sunbathes. The days go by slowly. He stays away from the news. He tries not to look at the moon. He thinks of Lupin. His heart aches, and sometimes it hurts so much he thinks he won’t be able to bear it. Thinks he needs to get right back to Tokyo and start hunting him again.

But then sometimes, never for long but sometimes, he feels at peace. When the sun hits his back just right, when he stops to smell the wild flowers, when he hears kids playing outside, a calm happy feeling fils his soul, and he thinks he can do it, thinks he took the right decision. Maybe he’ll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Et toc is a french expression that can be translated by "And bam!" . It's pretty desuet, but i guess it wasn't in the 70s aha


	6. Upside down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me?? Updating this fic everyday instead of doing my homework?? More likekly than you think. This chapter is less dark than the one before but it's still pretty heavy, so keep that in mind.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, the support warms my heart, i love this fandom so much lmao

There’s a gunshot, and a scream, and Lupin is running. What the fuck? What the fuck? There’s no time for questions though, no time for anxiety, so he shuts his mind off and puts all of his energy into his legs. He learned the layout of the museum, and rushes out of it by a small door. There he sees Fujiko, horror painted on her face. He runs up to her and she grabs him by the sleeve. At least she’s holding the dress, folded up against her chest.

“This whole thing has gone to shit Lupin. We have to go. Now!”

Lupin feels the ghost of Zenigata’s lips on his, follows Fujiko to the car and gets behind the wheel. 

“I heard a gunshot, what happened?”

“Stupid fucking cop shot some woman. He was aiming at me but hit her right in the head instead. Oh fuck Lupin it was so bad. Oh my god I have blood on my face. Jesus fuck all of this for an ugly dress, oh god oh god.” Her sentences get all tangled up, she starts sobbing, breath stuck in her throat, hand clutching the red silk on her knees. Lupin reaches out, grabs her hands, tries to soothe her while keeping his eyes on the road. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This has, indeed, entirely gone to shit.

They get to the hideout and Fujiko falls to her knees, still clutching the dress. Lupin kneels in front of her, cups her face, tries his best to comfort her, whispering nonsense. His mind is miles away from this, still stuck against a wall in the hallway. He’s trying his hardest to be here for his friend, to actually process what just happened. Someone died for fuck sake. But Zenigata’s heartbeat is still pulsating against his palm, erratic.

This is all so fucked up. He’s so fucked up, not even able to register Fujiko’s crying face in front of him, not really feeling her tears against his palms as he dries them. Eventually she calms down, bites at her lip, hard, makes blood drip down. He wipes it off, tries to be tender, just feels distant. She lets go of the dress and gets up, says she’s going to take a shower, voice small and sad.

He stays on the floor, dress all ruffled up against him, eyes unfocused. He can’t feel anything. It’s like he isn’t really there, like he’s locked out of his own body. It just got a thousand times worse as soon as Fujiko left the room. Nothing is real. Zenigata looming over him, a woman dead because of him, the priceless dress on his knees. It’s all happening at the same time, but none of it is tangible. He can’t reach any of it, like he’s in a completely different universe.

Eventually Fujiko comes back, or at least he thinks she does. He can hear steps behind him, but isn’t sure they’re real. And then she’s kneeling in front of him, concern stretching her features, and it’s a strange reversal of their position from a moment before. She tells him to breathe with her. He thinks he does. She kisses him, on his eyelids, on his forehead, under his right eye. 

He doesn’t feel it at first, only sees it, like he’s sitting just a bit sideway from his body. But slowly, he starts to come back to life under her tender touches. He says sorry. She says it’s not his fault, kisses him again, wraps her arms around him. He hugs her back, tighter as he can feel the heat come back into his muscles. He runs his hands through her hair. She smells like expensive shampoo, not like blood. It’s comforting, it roots him inside himself. When she lets go, he manages to smile, says thanks.

She says it’s no big deal, even though it is, and they eat leftovers together, because they’re hungry. Like they’re two normal people, a regular couple that just got home from work. Like she didn’t just see someone die and there’s not a 30 millions dollar dress sitting on the floor a few meter away from them. But thieves and killers still have to eat, and so they eat mashed potatoes with roasted zucchinis. 

Lupin listens to the clang of forks, tries to keep himself inside his skin, mostly succeeds. Then they go to sleep, because they’re tired. When he gets up, the dress is still on the floor, and a woman is still dead because of him. And he still feels Zenigata’s heart thumping against his palm. He takes a shower, can’t quite manage to wash off the guilt, or the memory of the other man’s body heat. 

Then he calls Jigen, because he has too, because the heist was technically a success, and they probably have to decide what they’re gonna do with the dress. And he sure as hell can’t take any decision right now. Jigen and Goemon sat out of this one, told Lupin they didn’t care about that dress, especially since he wasn’t all that clear on whether he wanted to keep it or sell it. Well, Jigen told him that. Goemon leaned against a wall and looked like he wasn’t listening.

Eventually they decide to keep the dress for now. It’s too dangerous to try selling it right now, everyone will be looking at it, especially after the Joconde. So in the meantime, they do small heists. Lupin starts to enjoy himself again after the second one. He sends notes to Interpol, calls out to Zenigata, but they never see the cops on the scenes of the crimes. Oh well, good for them. It’s easier that way, and they’re rolling around in dough. Lupin laughs and kisses Fujiko and drinks until he pukes and he doesn’t think about Zenigata. He doesn’t.

Alright fuck you, he’s constantly thinking about Zenigata. Of course he is, how the hell could he not. He can’t get it out of his head, that thing in the hallway. Zenigata’s flushed face over him, his wide honest eyes, long eyelashes fluttering, his heart so fast against Lupin’s fist. Lupin thinks of his own dry mouth, of his heart beating just as fast, of what he wanted in that moment, what he wanted Zenigata to do…

And god, what the fuck are those thoughts? Lupin’s terrified of them, doesn’t want them, pushes them out of his mind. But they keep coming back, thoughts of Zenigata pinning him against that museum wall, of his deep voice against his ear, of calloused fingers pressed against his shirt. It sends shivers down Lupin spine, it’s strange and horrifying and oh so delightful. He’s mostly afraid of that, afraid of how much he might like it.

Lupin isn’t a complete moron. He has at least a preschooler understanding of how feelings work. Maybe even a third-grader’s. So he knows what this is, or at least a part of him knows. And he spends a lot of energy shutting that part up, quarantining it to a dusty corner of his mind, builds walls after walls around it. Because he does not, under any circumstance, have feelings of any sort for Zenigata. 

Or yes, he does have feelings for him, and he can put specific names on them. Disgust! Hatred! Pity maybe, and even reluctant respect on a good day. That’s it! But Lupin keeps thinking of big hands cupping his jaw, of a deep chin dimple and smaller dimples surrounding loud laughs. It gets harder every day keeping them at bay, and he starts getting distracted. One evening, Fujiko snaps her fingers in front of his eyes, because he keeps zoning out when she’s talking. This never happens, not with Fujiko. She sighs.

“Listen if you don’t want to spend time with me, just say so. I’ve got a thousand other things I could be doing.”

“No no noooo Fujicakes of course I want to be with you!” He reaches for her, wraps his arms around her waist, kisses her all over. She laughs, but pulls away.

“You say that, but in 2 minutes you’re gonna be staring at the wall instead of at my tits. Listen, I don’t want to deal with this. Call me when you’re over whatever is taking up your mind”

He watches her put her shirt back on and leave, feels wronged somehow. Except he was thinking of Zenigata, when Fujiko was in his arms, and that’s not alright. He’s not alright.

On their 4th small heist, a simple bank one, he’s starting to become annoyed. He sent a lovely note to Interpol, all very defiant and mocking. And still not Zenigata. And this time, there actually are cops. He can see their cars parked in front of the bank. Whatever, not like they could stop it. But he wonders where Zenigata is. Wonders if he’s hurt maybe. He’s suddenly terrified at the thought of the cop being dead. Once this is done, he has to check up on him. 

And then he’s kneeling in front of a safe, listening attentively to the clicking of the combinaison. God, he was made for this, he thinks, fingers curling around the delicate mechanism. He unlocks it and is about to pull the door back when he hears someone stepping in. Ah, finally. Took him long enough He’s about to turn back, say something sardonic and probably hilarious to his old enemy, when the person starts talking. 

“Put your hands up and turn around.”

It’s not Zenigata. He turns around, ends up face to face with a small busty woman of about 30 years, short hair sticking out on her determined face, a gun pointed at him. He doesn’t put his hands up, shoves them in his pockets instead, furrows his brows.

“I said put your hands up!” He doesn’t care about her, doesn’t care about any of this, doesn’t even care about the money anymore. Rage is starting to rise up in his chest. His voice is rough when he answers.

“Yeah I heard you. Who are you?” 

“Officer Fukumoto. Put your hands up or I’ll shoot.” She’s bluffing, it’s obvious. She’s probably never used that gun on anything but practice targets. Lupin isn’t getting what he wants, and it’s not good to be in front of him when he doesn’t get what he wants.

“Where’s Zenigata?”

She looks shocked, and Lupin thinks she has no fucking right to be.

“Inspector Zenigata? He’s on a holiday.” The gun hasn’t fired, but it still feels like Lupin’s been shot. A holiday? What the fuck? He yells at her, anger distorting his face.

“A holiday? How the fuck is he on a holiday? He doesn’t go on holidays! He’s not fucking allowed to go on holiday!” He doesn’t even register what he said, only feels the angry fire lapping at his heart. This lasted long enough, he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He pulls out a smoke bomb out of his pocket, throws it at her feet. And then she’s yelling, and he’s running away. 

Ah! Like stealing candy from a baby. This Fukumoto gal is so far below his level it’s insulting. Zenigata would have never fallen for the smoke bomb trick. But Zenigata isn’t here. Because Zenigata took a fucking vacation. How dare he? Zenigata doesn’t take breaks, Zenigata runs after him and never stops and is always too late to stop him, but always there anyway. He doesn’t get to just fuck off on a beach somewhere, that’s not how this works. But nothing has been working the way it’s supposed to lately.

He meets back up with the gang, and they run to the car, and then JIgen asks:

“So where’s the cash?” 

“Oh shit.” He forgot the cash. He actually forgot to take out the money from the fucking safe. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Oh my god you forgot it didn’t you?” Fujiko asks, judgment pouring out of her tone. 

“You forgot to take the fucking cash?!” Jigen punches him, calls him a fucking idiot, yells that one of these day he’s going to just shoot him dead. Lupin raises his arm, tries to defend himself from the myriad of hits he’s receiving.

“Ouch! Hey man, stop it, I’m driving!” 

Jigen stops, sits back, arms crossed.

“You keep fucking up like this, and one of these days you’re going to get us into serious trouble if you don’t get your shit together.”

The rest of the drive is silent, the ambiance icy. Lupin finds he’s still fucking furious. When they get back, everyone leaves, anger pulsating in every corner of the hideout. And Lupin is the most enraged of them all, his teeth clenching and his cheek reddened. Oh, Zenigata doesn’t get to do that, not to him! He’s gonna find the cop, and kick him out of this whole holiday mood until he’s willing to do his goddamn job again.

Lupin knows Zenigata’s address. Nothing weird about that. It’s just the kind of information you need to have on your main enemies. And Lupin has a lot of enemies, knows a lot of personal addresses. He drives up to the crumbling little building in the suburbs of Tokyo, burning up with rage. He’s fuming when he crochets the building’s entry door, is ready to curse everyone he meets when he climbs the stairs, and then he’s in front of Zenigata’s apartment door. The 22th. It’s so easy to break in, absolutely no security. He almost wants to laugh. 

Zenigata’s flat smells stuffy, and dust stings Lupin’s eyes. He walks in slowly, bravado suddenly evaporated. He feels guilty somehow, an intruder in something far too personal, something he shouldn't be seeing. The place is small, and very old, but it’s clean and well taken care off. It’s also remarkably empty. Zenigata isn’t here.

Lupin’s heart stings. Still, deciding he didn’t come here for nothing, Lupin gets further into the apartment, just looking around. It’s a two room apartment: a small bedroom and kitchen hybrid, and an even smaller bathroom. The bed, a single one, is made, and Lupin distracly runs his hand ,through the brown sheets. 

There’s no decoration on any of the walls, only a dying plant in the corner. It hasn’t been watered in a while. Lupin pinches one of its leave, feels bad for it. He grabs a glass and fills it with sink water, pours it down on the pot. He doesn’t know why he does it, tries not to think about it.

Then he sees the desk. It’s covered by pictures. Pictures of him. That’s not that weird, is what he tells himself. Zenigata’s a cop investigating him, it’s normal for him to have documentation. But Zenigata knows what he looks like, probably doesn’t need all of those polaroids. Lupin stares at the hundred of small reflections. There’s a lot of disguises, a few Mary. But there’s also a lot of shots of his regular face. And they’re all just sitting there, on Zenigata’s desk, like a wordless confession Lupin can’t quite grasp yet.

A white piece of paper catches Lupin’s eyes. It’s not a picture, it’s just a torn up piece of paper, with Zenigata’s chicken's script on it. And Lupin’s heart jumps to his throat. Because it’s an address. And hours, some of them circled in, other crossed off. This must be where Zenigata is! Lupin snatches the paper and runs out of the flat, leaves the door hanging wide open. It’s not like Zenigata’s got anything worth stealing in there, clearly. 

Oh, the pig is going to regret disappearing on him like that. Lupin’s going to fucking destroy his holliday. He doesn’t stop to think of how weird this is, this reversal of their roles. How strange for the mouse to chase after the cat. If he did think about it, he’d probably only feel a weird and overwhelming feeling of shame, so he doesn't. Simple! 

He finds out where the address on the paper is, and it makes him even more furious. It’s in the middle of fucking nowhere. Lupin has no idea why Zenigata would want to spend time in a shitty little village like that, when he could be in Tokyo, chasing him. God, what an asshole. How dare he make him this angry. Lupin’s going to show him.

He doesn’t tell the others that he’s leaving. They don’t need to know, and they’d probably ask him for explanations he has no idea how to give. He doesn’t even know why he’s doing this, really. He should be pleased right? Pleased that his enemy is gone, and that his remplacant is incompetent and that’s he’s going to be able to steal so much shit so easily.

But he’s not pleased. He’s furious and he can’t sit still and just wait around, so he pulls out a map, gets into the ford and just starts driving. When he gets too tired to drive, he pulls out on the grass and lies down on the backseat. This is crazy, he thinks as he looks up at the stars. The moon is full. That pulls at his heart, for some reason he doesn’t get. He falls asleep without realising it, his heart singing up to the moon.


	7. Sharp teeth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now listen before you say "you need to do your homework and not write all day" I want you to know that today I had the time to do my home work have a breakdown AND write this chapter like a true quarantine queen
> 
> Anyway hope you like it, sorry it's pretty short. The next one will probably be much longer and have a ton of shit happening in it

The sun is shining down on Zenigata’s face, warming him up. It’s the beginning of spring, and he can hear birds in the trees. Its not often he hear birds in the buzy streets of Tokyo. He’s currently laying down on the grass, eyes closed, enjoying a sunbath. He’s been there for 3 weeks now, and he thinks he’s doing okay. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t think of Lupin, but his skull isn’t bursting at the seams with guilt and desire anymore. It’s a peaceful kind of longing, a quiet fire licking at his ribcage, like the quiet heat of the sun on his skin. 

He’s been walking around, exploring every little nook the village and its surroundings. He found a big stick on one of these walks, and he’s been carrying it with him to help him along. The village has a small communal garden, and he bought some tomato stems. So now he’s growing tomatoes, just like in the absurd thought he had in his boss office. He also bought some blue overalls, just to complete the picture. He feels like a different man, he feels at peace.

Sometimes, it’s very hard to let go. At night especially, laying down in an empty bed, his heart so heavy he thinks it’ll just sink through the sheets. Then is mind is filled with nothing but Lupin, screaming out into the dark. Lupin, Lupin, Lupin! In those moments, it takes everything he has to not pack his things and hop into the first train to Tokyo, to run to Lupin and puke out his viscous heart at his feet.

But he doesn’t. He clings to his sheets and forces his eyes shut and lets his heart scream out until it runs out of energy. Because he knows he took the right decision, both for the world at large and, ultimately himself. Because sometimes, he does feel genuinely more at peace then ever before. Because he loves the small green little tomatoes that he grew himself. Because the couple running the hotel always smile at him and ask him how he’s doing. Because he thinks he might be okay.

He gets up, brushes grass off of his pants, grabs his stick and walks back to the village, a slow smile setting on his face. He lives life slowly, a total antithesis of his life up until them. It’s like early retirement, and he thinks he genuinely likes it. He feels strong. So to say it’s like a kick in the chest to see a yellow fiat 500 parked in the village’s square, would be quite an understatement.

He stops in his tracks, drops his stick. It hits the pavement with a loud echoing noise. He tries to calm himself, rationalises that a lot of people have yellow fiat 500s. But he knows that’s fucking stupid. Here, in this small village lost in the middle of nowhere? Oh my god, Lupin’s there. Zenigata’s heart is both shattered on the ground and up in his throat. He’s torn between immense dread and overwhelming glee, doesn’t know what to do. He wants to run away, to another even smaller more unknown village. He wants to find Lupin and pin him against a wall. His feet are glued to the ground. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there, stuck in place and screaming internally. But eventually he forces himself to move, grabs his stick back, walks back to the hotel like he wanted to originally. Right, so Lupin’s there. Well, he’s good enough of a detective to know when things definitely aren’t coincidences, so he knows Lupin is there for him. And god, what the fuck is that supposed to mean? A traitorous feeling of hope starts to rise up in him. He tries to shut it off, but the thought is already there, clear as day. Lupin wants to talk to him. Maybe Lupin wants to tell him specific things. Maybe Lupin missed him.

And now terrible fantasies of Lupin confessing some kind of feelings under the moonlight make his way into his rotten head, and he’s oh so fucked. He gets into the hotel, takes a shower, eats dinner, tries desperately to not think of lingering fingers and quick smiles, painfully fails. He stays locked in, terrified to go out and find Lupin waiting for him. He figures if the man really wants to see him, he could climb the hotel’s facade and just break in through his window, like a criminal Peter Pan. Oh my god and now he’s comparing Lupin to Peter Pan, he’s really gone and lost his marbles.

Eventually, he can’t take it anymore. He needs to breathe fresh air or he’s going to fully lose it. So he quietly walks down the hotel’s stairs and steps into the street. The midnight air is cold on his neck, and he regrets not bringing his trenchcoat. He walks to the garden, worry eating up at him. Seeing his tomatoes, now that will calm him down. Can’t be terrified of the enormity your own feelings when you’re looking at small still green tomatoes. 

When he opens the small creaking gate of the garden, he thinks he sees a figure propped up against the low wall facing, and his heart drops. But then he blinks, and rubs at his eyes, and the figure he’s gone. He lets out a breath.

“Found you.” Lupin whispers right next to his ear. He’s right behind him, and Zenigata must be dead, must just have died from an heart attack. There’s no other explanation, because Lupin’s breath is hot against his ear.

He turns around, arms flailing wildly, eyes wide open. And sure enough, Lupin is standing right there, leaned on one leg, hands in his pockets, looking at him with something Zenigata has no idea how to decipher. Zenigata’s breathing hard all out of nowhere, has no idea what to say, feels like his heart is trying to break out of his chest to jump into the thief’s hands like an eager puppy.

Zenigata has no idea of how long they stand like this, merely a few centimeters away from each other, Lupin bent over and looking up at him, like a wild animal. Eventually words start to curl up on Zenigata’s tongue. He has to ask, needs to break the far too intense silence enveloping them.

“What are you doing there?”

Hearing the words, Lupin looses that wild indecipherable look in his eyes. Zenigata is almost relieved, because a familiar expression is starting to spread on the thief’s face. Rage. Lupin snarls, spits out.

“What are you doing here?” He almosts yells out the “you”, far too loud for such a quiet place. Zenigata doesn’t understand, feels like he might start crying, can’t handle Lupin yelling at him right now.

“On holiday.” His voice is all weak and shy, and he fucking hates how broken it makes him sound. He doesn’t want Lupin to know about the deep well of self hatred and shame in his heart.

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” Lupin’s voice is angry and accusatory, he sounds like he’s burning up and Zenigata doesn’t get it. “You think you’re allowed to do that? Just fuck off in the middle of nowhere?”

Now Zenigata is also starting to get pissed too, angry tears filling up his eyes.  
“What the hell do you mean, allowed? Do I need your permission to take a train now?" He takes a deep breath, tries to keep the tears at bay, just a little longer. "Please Lupin just, just go… Leave me alone. I won't call the police, just leave me alone”

Lupin hits his chest, furious, and it’s far too reminiscent of their last meeting, and Zenigata stares down at his hand, then back at the angry man baring his teeth at him. 

“What the hell do you mean leave you alone. You don't get to…” Lupin’s voice loses some of its fire, like he forgot why he was so angry in the first place. He searches for his words. “You don’t get to just leave. You’re supposed to… to chase after me.” And Lupin seems to realise how strange the words that just came out of his mouth are, because he takes back his hand, curls it into a tight fist at his side instead, looks away, brows furrowed.

Zenigata’s heart really is going to break out of his chest, there’s no way his ribcage is strong enough to contain it. He leans further into Lupin’s space, eyes wide and wanting. The words are out before he can stop them, too needy, too honest.

“You want me to chase after you?” 

Lupin’s head snaps back, wide eyes locking on his. He’s baring his teeth again, and Zenigata can’t tell if it’s a smile, a grimace or just an animalistic way to show him the sharp canines he could bury in his neck. His voice is intense when he answers, feels like burning razors on Zenigata's skin.

"Yes! Yes I want you to chase after me!"

And then Zenigata isn't thinking anymore. He leans down, grabs Lupin's face in his hands and pulls him up, shoves his mouth against his. For a terrifying moment, he thinks Lupin won't react, frozen in shock under his touch. But then Lupin opens his mouth, eagerly responds. Their tongues meet, and Lupin tastes like tangerines, which absolutely blows Zenigata's mind.

Lupin grabs at Zenigata's suspenders, pull him closer. Zenigata thinks he hears him moan into his mouth, or maybe that's the sound of his brain exploding. Tangerines! But then Lupin's hands are on his chest, palms pressed flat against his shirt, and they're pushing him away. He lets go, watches in horror as Lupin steps back. Zenigata has no idea what he reads on Lupin's face. Fear, desire, regret, guilt and pity, all mixed up in something ugly and huge and terrifying.

Lupin looks up and down at him, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He looks like a deer in the headlights of a car. Zenigata has never seen a more beautiful sight than this, Lupin looking at him with wide eyes, gleaming under the moonlight in the middle of growing tomatoes. He reaches out to him, hands trembling, heart somehow both up in his troath and down on his sleeve.

But Lupin turns around, runs away, jumps over the gate. And he's gone. Lupin's gone. Lupin just kissed him back, and now he's gone. Zenigata looks down at the ground. His tomatoes are bleeding out on the dirt. Lupin trampled all over them in his haste to get away from him.

Zenigata falls to his knees, craddles the destroyed tomatoes, gets juice all over his fingers. He doesn't understand anything, feels hot tears fall down his cheeks. He shivers under the night wind. His heart is all shivered up inside his chest, like Lupin stepped all over it too. He doesn't get it, just doesn't get it. One moment the thief is kissing him back eagerly, and he thinks maybe, just maybe he deserves it, deserves some kind of tenderness, and the next he's looking at him like he's roadkill on the side of the road and running away.

Zenigata feels disgusting. He's a monster in human skin, his feelings ugly and hungry and unwanted. He crushes the tomatoes under his fingers, sees the director dead body in front of him, feels like it's her blood spilling all over his hands, settling under his nails. He licks his lips, feels the ghost of Lupin's tongue on them, hates himself so deeply for the rush of heat that rises up in him.

And just when he thought he was ok too, just when he thought he could make it. Zenigata isn't strong. He's a weak ugly little beast and everything around him will end up crushed and dying on cold dirt.


	8. Strangely enough, not a metaphor for friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are popping ooofff!!  
> Next chapter should be the last. Hope you enjoy this one!

Lupin is used to running away from Zenigata. What he’s less used to is having the cop’s tongue shoved down his throat. What he’s less used to is kissing him back and grabbing desperately at his stupid fucking overalls. So it’s a new kind of fear that pushes him forward. He’s not really running from Zenigata, knows the inspector isn’t chasing him. He’s running from himself, hopelessly trying to outrun both his desire and his shame, trying to exhaust his heart until it doesn’t burn this painfully. 

He runs back to the fiat, drives away from Zenigata and his tomatoes and the heart he exposes so willingly on his sleeve. He drives until he can feel needles of exhaustion sting his eyes, doesn’t stop, not even when he stops being able to keep his eyes open. If he stops, he’ll have to think. If he stops he might change his mind, turn the car around and go right back to kissing Pops.

So he drives until he reaches Tokyo, shuts his mind off the whole way, and crashes into bed without even kicking his shoes off. He’s woken up by fingers pinching at his cheeks. Perfectly manicured fingers. Fujiko’s face is centimeters away from his, and a slow smile spreads on his face, before last night’s events crash back into his mind and he’s filled with dread. Fujiko’s eyebrows are furrowed, and she’s looking at him with something like concern in her eyes.

“Lupin, it’s 5pm. You’ve been drooling on your pillow all day. And I know you took the car yesterday. So tell me what happened or I kick your dick where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Lupin grumbles, closes his eyes and tries to hide from the world into his pillow. His damp pillow. Uh, guess the drooling thing wasn’t an exaggeration. Fujiko sighs.

“Did you go to find him?”

He snaps his head at her. What the fuck? 

“What? How did you…?”

“Ah! So you did go see him. I don’t get how you’re such a good thief Lupin, because you have the worst poker face.”

“I… I didn’t…”

“Shut up. Why are you even there and not balls deep in a 50 year old inspector right now?”

“Fujiko what the absolute fuck?”

“What, you didn’t go there to confess your undying love to him or whatever?”

“What the fuck? No!” She looks at him unconvinced. “No! I didn’t! I’m not… I’m not in love with Zenigata for fuck sake! Why would you even think that, that’s disgusting. I hate him!”

She still looks incredibly unconvinced, and he really wants to die now. She gets up and leaves the room.

“Sure Lupin.”

“Hey, come back! I hate him!”

He falls back down on his bed with a groan. No one has ever hated their lives more than he does right now. He thinks maybe he’ll never get to have sex with Fujiko again, and that’s just great. Wonderful even! And now he’s thinking back to Zenigata’s lips on his, and he’s fucked anyway so who cares. He shoves a pillow on his face, muffles a scream into it. 

Eventually, he gets down, because he’s hungry and neither Zenigata or Fujiko will keep him from making a sandwich. When he walks into the kitchen, he finds the whole gang sited at the table. And they’re looking at him. He feels like he just swatted at a wasp nest. Still, he opens the fridge and starts to make his sandwich, because he’s heard predators can feel your fear. Fujiko is the first one to talk, chin resting on her intertwined hands.

“Lupin, we need to talk.”

He takes a bite, feels sweat running down his back. “Do we now.”

“Yes. We’re all getting tired of your shit.” The gunman and samurai both nod. 

“And what kind of shit would that be?”

“Lupin if you won’t be honest with yourself, at least be honest with us?”

“You’re gonna have to be more direct Fujiko dearest, I’m afraid I don’t quite get it.”

“Oh for fuck sake!” Jigen slaps his hands on the table, ashes from his cigarette falling down on it. “Lupin, we know you’re in love with the pig!”

Lupin is so fucked. But more than that, he’s outraged! He feels a blush rising up to his cheeks, points a vindicating finger to the gunman. 

“That’s ridiculous! I’m not in love. I hate him! And frankly, how do I know you’re not trying to throw me off, uh? Maybe you’re in love with him, and you're just trying to cover your tracks!”

Goemon barks out a laugh at that, actually chokes a bit on his own saliva, and Jigen has to hit his back. When the swordsman has regained his calm, he coughs one last time and looks into Lupin’s eyes.

“It’s never wise to lock yourself out of your own heart Lupin.” 

Lupin catches a small smile on Jigen’s lips, can’t tell if it’s mocking or what. 

“Why are you all getting on my case? First of all I’m not in love with goddamn Zenigata”

“Fujiko told us you went to see him yesterday.”

“Second of all” he talks over JIgen, needs to shut their accusations off. “Second of all, even if I was, which I most definitely am not, what the hell does it have to do with any of you? Why don’t you get off my ass for a second?”

“It concerns us” Jigen starts “ because lately you’ve been all over the place, and you’re almost messing up heists you could normally do in your sleep. And most of all, it concerns us because we’re your friends, you dipshit, and we don’t like seeing you unhappy.”

“This. This discussion right there? Is exactly what’s making me unhappy.”

“Hey, there’s no need to be a dick. We’re trying to help you.”

Lupin scoffs, anger rising up in him.

“You’re not trying to help me! You want to snoop around and shove your noses in my shit because you’re bored. Leave me the fuck alone.”

“Lupin…” Fujiko and Jigen start at the same time, but he’s had enough of this.

“No! I don’t have to sit here and listen to you telling me what you think I’m feeling. I’m a grown man, okay.”

“Lupin you have to talk to him!”

But he’s already storming out, hands raised in the air to block their words out. He doesn't need this, fucking hates that they all got together to corner him. More than that he hates how weird everything has gotten in the past few months, hates how he can't stop thinking of Zenigata. He just wants things to go back to normal, to the way they were! With Zenigata chasing after him, victorious laughs in the night and running on rooftops, and none of those weird confusing feelings.in between. He wants things to be simple again, that's all. Simple and clean cut, a robber, the cop chasing him, and nothing else.

He tries to track when things started to get all tangled up between him and Pops, thinks back to the museum. But no, it was before that, before Mary danced with him even. The joconde heist, Lupin realises in a flash. That's when everything started to turn around, that's when he and Zenigata first started to move into something weird and new and absolutely terrifying.

Lupin starts to come up with a plan. And Lupin is very good at coming up with plans. If everything started to change with the Joconde, then what he needs to do is clear: get back to the Joconde! And if he gets it back to Zenigata, maybe the cop will be so thankful and touched hell agree to go back on the force. And then everything will be back to normal and Lupin will be able to breathe again, without some crazy ineffable weight on his chest. Because that's all he wants, for things to go back to normal. He wants to feel normal again, to be normal, that’s all.

So, the Mona Lisa uh? Lamarine’s angry face pops up in Lupin’s mind, and he smirks. Now this he can get behind. A nice dangerous heist, all for a an honorable goal? Sign him the fuck up! He books a flight to France, which leaves tonight, and that leaves him just enough time to pack. He takes his burgling suit, the all black one that’s both efficient and shows off his ass, as well as all of his tools. He leaves a note right before going, that says:  
“Gone to steal the Joconde back. Mind your own business for once!” 

He takes the time to draw an accompanying cartoon drawing of his winking face, because it’s fun and he has a brand to maintain. And then he’s flying to Marseille and pretty much bouncing with pre-heist gitters. He hasn’t felt that way about stealing in a while, but then again he hasn’t done a job this dangerous alone in a while. He’s not worried though. Lamarine is a fucking moron, and there’s no way he can get caught by a guy like that.

He arrives in the beginning of the afternoon, books a room in a crummy little motel and takes the time to plan everything. He’s got a lot of info on Lamarine’s mansion already. It never hurts to have intel on guys like him, you pretty much always have to expect a knife in the back. He doesn’t know exactly where the Joconde is hidden, but he at least has a plan of the whole place, so he figures he’ll be fine. 

He leaves his room at twilight, a wild grin on. Lamarine lives on the outskirts of town, in a disgusting display of wealth. The man has fucking peacocks walking around in the 20 hectares of his yard. It takes 20 minutes for Lupin to walk from the front gate to the actual front door. He’s at least happy he managed to not wake up the guard dogs. 

It’s amazingly easy to break into the mansion, none of the windows are locked. Lupin almost laughs as he lands cat like on the polished wood floors of the first storey. Fucking rich people and their insouciance. He walks around the dark hallways of what can honestly be described as a castle at this point, lets his thief instinct lead him to the hidden masterpiece. 

Well, he doesn’t leave everything to instinct or chance. He knows where the safe room is, so that’s where he’s going. Figures that’s the most likely place to hold his prize. It’s slightly harder to break in that room. There’s a metal door with a combination. And when he opens it with a crack, his expert eyes detect alarm lasers. It’s something about the way the light reflects on them. He pulls out powder from his bag, blows it over the room. Just as he suspected, red lines going from wall to wall reveal themselves. 

He smiles as he puts the power back. This just keeps getting better.He loves a challenge, and he hasn’t had an occasion to show off his limberness in a while. He hops from place to place, bends himself like a contortionist between the red lines, gets cocky a couple of times, almost sets off the alarms. When he lands out of the metaphorical mineland, he spreads out his arms and bows to an imaginary audience, like a master trapeze artist. 

There’s only one safe, and Lupin smirks as he runs his expert fingers on it and gets out his stethoscope. He closes his eyes and listens to the familiar clicking of the meccanism, and then in a clang, unlocks the safe. Ah, too easy! He’s getting his head out of the safe, painting in hands, when he feels a cold pressure between his shoulder blades. And a deep voice, with a thick accent, resonates behind him

“I thought I told you, Mr Lupin, that you would not like me when I am crossed. We could have been good friends, Monsieur Lupin. I was looking forward to using your services again. Such a shame that this will never come to pass. People don’t tend to wrong me twice. Put the painting back”

Lupin would run, or kick the smile out of Lamarine’s stupid face, but the gun pressed on his back is a pretty good deterrent. And this isn’t Officer Fukumoto. Henry de Lamarine won’t hesitate for a second before shooting him if he steps a toe out of line. So he swallows his saliva as well as his pride, and slowly puts the Joconde back. 

“Get up. Your hands behind your back.” He does as he’s told, keeps his eyes locked on Lamarine. He’s wearing that stupid white suit again. Does he sleep in that? Lamarine slaps handcuffs on Lupin’s wrists, and the thief is painfully reminded of Zenigata. The gun is buried deeper in Lupin’s back, a clear injunction to start walking. So Lupin does, rattles his brain for a way out, for some sort of plan. But he comes up empty. And Lamarine walks him into what he knows are the dungeons. Because of fucking course this ridiculously expensive mansion has dungeons. Lupin would roll his eyes but he’s actually starting to worry about his life, so he puts his energy elsewhere.

Lamarine puts a hand on his back, shoves him in a cell. Lupin lands hard, hurts his bound wrists, doesn’t take the time to feel the pain, only turns around with a scowl.   
“Don’t get used to the sights, you’re not staying for long. It just takes some time to set up the whole thing, especially the sharks. You have to open so many hatches, and it’s always such a bother and...Oh but why am I troubling you with all of that, you’re going to see it all in a moment. Please do try to enjoy what little time you have left, stress tends to harden the meat, and it upsets their stomachs.”

He closes the door on those last words, an evil smirk on. Oh my god Lupin hates him so much. Fucking sharks? How cliché can this get? The cell he’s in isn’t exactly cliché though. Surprisingly, it’s the most modern part of the property so far. No bars or any gap for people to pass plates of food through. It’s literally just a cube. There’s no furniture, and as soon as Lamarine close the door, any proof of its existence disappeared. There’s no outline of the door, it just looks like a smooth wall. This clearly isn’t a place where prisoners are expected to stay for a long while. It’s just somewhere they can be put before Lamarine is ready to kill them. A cube. Lupin is sitting in the corner of a 3 meter wide cube.

Lupin’s sure he’s been in tighter spots than this before, but he’s struggling to think of any. It really is starting to seem like he’s fucked. And that means he won’t ever dance with Fujiko again, or nick a cigarette from JIgen or watch Goemon bark out a rare honest laugh. It means he won’t ever hand the Joconde to Zenigata, he’ll never get to make things right.

Suddenly, Zenigata is everywhere in his mind. Zenigata’s angry screams in the night, Zenigata’s long eyelashes, Zenigata crying at the drop of a hat, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Zenigata’s big hands and their calloused fingers, Zenigata’s old trench coat getting all turned around and wrinkled when he’s running after him, Zenigata’s reddened cheeks, Zenigata’s wide pleading eyes...Zenigata… Zenigata that he’ll never see again, Zenigata to whom he’ll never be able to say sorry, never be able to say…And oh.

oh

Oh my god he’s been so fucking stupid. Lupin lets his head hit his knees, laughs weakly. So, so stupid. The words appear so clearly to him now that he’ll probably never be able to say them outloud. He’s in love with Zenigata. He’s been in love with Zenigata for a while now, hasn’t he? He just was too much of an ass to realise it. And he hurt poor old Pops so bad in the process too. He shakes his head, feeling both incredibly guilty and so, so relieved. The weight that was pressing down on his heart is finally lifted, and now he’s probably going to die. And holy shit he’s in love with Zenigata.

“How touching. Too bad love doesn’t shield you from shark bites.”

Lamarine is back in the doorframe, looking condescendingly down at him. And Lupin guesses he just said that last bit out loud. Oh well, it’s not like any of it matters all that much anymore. Lamarine points a gun at him, tells him to get up, so he does. He leads him to a wide open room, with a fucking shark tank in the middle of it. Of course all of the shark talk wasn’t some kind of metaphor for friendship being the true treasure or whatever. Who the hell keeps sharks in their home? 

Lamarine instructs some burly guards to tie Lupin up to the ceiling, and Lupin guesses that through an intricate system of pulleys, he’ll slowly get lowered into the shark’s hungry mouths. And really, isn’t that just a bit too much? Can’t bad guys just shoot him and be over with it? What is it with them and their need to always have a fucking tickling or mind reading machine, or a goddamn shark tank in the middle of their living room? He can feel an evil monologue is about to start and he tunes it off, thinks of Zenigata’s hands cupping his jaw instead. If he’s about to be viciously eaten by sharks, he can at least have some happy thoughts in his last moments.

Splashes of water are starting to reach him when he hears a scream, followed by gunshots. He opens his eyes right as the ropes holding him up are cut and he lands in Goemon’s arms. Oh my god he’s never been happier to see him. 

“Once again, my sword cuts an unworthy thing.” the samurai says as he lets Lupin go and puts his sword away.

“Thanks for the save Goemon!”

Fujiko and Jigen are there too, and all the body guards are on the ground. Jigen is pointing his gun at Lamarine, who looks absolutely terrible, dissbelief and horror blatant on his face. Fujiko is searching through his pockets for anything valuable. Lupin runs up to them, so relieved he could burst with happiness.

“Jigen, you’re not gonna believe this!”

“What?”

“I’m in love with Zenigata!”

Jigen punches him, hard, right in the nose. 

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“There still are sharks I could throw you into, you absolute dipshit! Next time you’re unsure about your feelings, listen to your fucking friends instead of running into a metaphorical lion’s den, and a literal shark tank, all by yourself.”

“Alright. Noted, will do.” Lupin’s talking through his hand. He thinks his nose might be broken, can feel blood leaking out of it, and it hurts like hell. He doesn’t complain though, given he was certain of his imminent death minutes ago. They leave Lamarine tied up for the sharks and get the fuck out of the mansion, not before Lupin takes a detour by the safe room to take the Joconde with him.

Lupin has never been more thankful for his friends, tells them as soon as they’re out of the mansion. 

“Yeah you better be.” Fujiko tells him, a smile on. She ruffles her hand through his hair. “You’re really a fucking idiot Lupin.”

“So what are you going to do with the Joconde?” asks Jigen.

“I’m going to give it back to Zenigata.”

“So we did all that for nothing?”

“Well, not nothing. I’m pretty sure I’m going to get laid.”

Jigen chokes on his cigarette, while Fujiko laughs.

“Wow, so you really had a change of heart uh?”

“Thinking you’re gonna end up in a shark stomach will do that to you yeah.”

“Well next time don’t let it come to that.”

They get back to Tokyo, and Lupin’s heart is singing the whole way.


	9. It tastes like hapiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter!!! Writting this was a blast, and the response to it has made me so happy. I hope you all like this chapter, and its enough tooth rotting fluff to heal you from the angst and frustration from the past chapters.
> 
> I'm really so glad I wrote this, and got to share it with you. This really is a wonderful fandom, and I'm glad we're all enjoying this goofy franchise together. Have a nice read!!!

A lot of the tomatoes were fine. Some didn’t get trampled by Lupin, and Zenigata managed to save some of the ones that were. He clings to that, to the remaining reddening tomatoes, tries to pretend it’s a metaphor for something, for his heart maybe. It doesn’t work very well. He’s absolutely miserable. The world seems grey to him. The sun doesn’t warm him. He no longer looks at the hotel couple in the eyes. He spends every waking hour thinking of Lupin, and his heart is so heavy with it he can’t believe it hasn’t sunk through his body to bury itself amongst the tomatoes.

Because all hope truly is lost. Before, he could tell himself the thief maybe secretly loved him back, or at least didn’t hate him, and they couldn’t be together because of outside forces. But now, it would be pure madness to think of reciprocity. Because what clearer rejection could he have faced, than Lupin literally running away from him? So he just sits among his tomatoes, looks in the void, tries to not feel anything, feels nothing but pain.

One afternoon, he hears a car parking nearby. He doesn’t get up to curiously look who it is, doesn’t care. The world could be burning and he wouldn’t give a damn. Someone walks up to him. He hears it, but very distantly, like it’s all happening to someone else. But then Lupin voice’s reaches his ears, and his head snaps up, all of its own. Because he’s still a well trained dog, looking up as soon as he hears Lupin call to him.

“Hi Pops”.

The thief looks apologetic, and shy, and Zenigata is so in love with him his heart bursts with it. He starts to get up, but Lupin is faster to sit next to him, their shoulders bumping. It sends vibrations running through Zenigata’s whole body, this simple touch. Lupin opens his mouth, closes it, looks like he’s at a loss for words, like he didn’t plan going this far. He’s so incredibly beautiful like this, sunkissed by the sun, sitting on dirt with his expensive suit on. He rubs at the back of his neck, looks down.

“Your tomatoes grew back.” His voice is all small and soft. He sounds bewildered, and relieved, and Zenigata’s heart hurts so bad he thinks he’ll die of it right now. He wishes Lupin would just get on with it, say what he came here to say, so that the hope encircling his heart would stop slowly killing him already. But Lupin seems lost in thought, mouth half open, looking at the tomatoes with an incredible amount of tenderness.

“You didn’t trample all of them.” Zenigata’s voice is rough and small, the words barely get out of his throat. He feels so raw and exposed.

“I’m sorry.” Lupin sounds so sad.

“It’s ok” Zenigata answers, even though it’s not. He just wants Lupin to not be sad, doesn’t care if he breaks his own heart in the process.

“No.” Lupin shakes his head. “Not just for the tomatoes. Zenigata, listen, I’m sorry for everything. The past few months I’ve been acting like a total dick and I… Fuck I had a plan for this. Wait” Lupin grabs at a bag next to him. Zenigata’s heart is in his throat.   
“Closes your eyes.” Zenigata does, because he’s ready to follow Lupin to the end of the universe. He feels Lupin put something in his hands. And then he feels lips on his, in the softest kiss he’s ever gotten. 

He opens his eyes wide, and Lupin’s already pulling back, a shy smile on. Zenigata is transfixed, can’t stop looking at him. He feels every hair of his body rise up, his heart feels lighter than a feather. Lupin grins, and Zenigata has never seen anything more beautiful.  
“Come on man, at least look down. I worked very hard fo get it back.”

Zenigata looks down; and he’s holding the Mona Lisa in his dirty still sticky with tomato juice hands. He almost drops it in the dirt too, with the shock of it all. He looks at Lupin, then back at the painting, then Lupin again. The grin on Lupin’s face grows wilder. He bites his lip to try to contain it, fails at it. 

“But I...how…why…”

“Listen Zenigata.” Lupin puts his hand on Zenigata and looks into his eyes, and really it’s asking far too much of his poor old heart to hold on when so much pressure is put onto it. “I wanted to give you back the Mona Lisa, so that things could go back to normal. I wanted you to go back on the force and chase after me again, for us to go back to the way we were ”

“Lupin I...This is so much but I… I can’t.” He feels tears start to spill out of his eyes. “Lupin, I can’t go back to the way things were, I just can’t. So if that’s what you want, you should leave, because I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“No listen, that’s the thing! I don’t want things to go back to the way they were before either. Zenigata I…I...” 

And then Lupin’s grabbing his face between his hands and he’s leaning in and kissing him so tenderly Zenigata almost drops the fucking Mona Lisa in the dirt. And it wouldn't even matter, because Lupin’s lips are on his, and no masterpiece could ever be more important than this moment right there. This: Zenigata’s face between Lupin’s palms, their lips pressed together in the purest show of affection, in the middle of a small communal garden, the sun shining down on them. 

Zenigata closes his eyes, opens his mouth, finally feels warmth filling his body again, finally feels alive. Lupin pulls back, wipes at Zenigata’s tears, laughs tenderly. 

“Zenigata...I love you. I’m sorry it took me this fucking long to see it, but I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time.”

Zenigata sobs, spreading snot all over Lupin’s hands, and he doesn’t care. Because nothing matters more than this.   
“I love you too Lupin. Of course I love you too, how could I not?”

Lupin laughs, and throws his arms around Zenigata, kisses him all over his wet face, at his eyelids, at the corner of his mouth, the tip of his nose, and Zenigata clumsily hugs him back, trying not to damage the priceless masterpiece between them. But what’s a Mona Lisa worth when Lupin the third is kissing at his jaw, and just told him he loves him? Surely a few tomato stains don’t matter all that much in the face of this much love. Surely de Vinci would understand.

Later, after Zenigata had called the authorities and told them he found the Mona Lisa, (Lupin hid in bushes while Zenigata handed it back to them, standing all proud in his stupid fucking overalls, and could barely contain his love from overflowing him at the satisfied smile Zenigata had on when they confusingly praised him.), after he cried a year worth of tears in Lupin’s sleeve, Lupin tells him the story of how he got the Joconde back.

“Jeez. Thank god you’re not the inspector here, because that’s some terrible planning.”

“Hey, give me some slack, I was emotionally distraught.”

Still later, days later, when everything has calmed down, they’re slowly kissing in Zenigata’s hotel room. Zenigata is dragging his fingers through Lupin’s scalp, marvelling at the softness of Lupin’s hair. Lupin has one hand wrapped around Zenigata’s shoulders, and the other is tugging at his shirt. He gets his hand underneath it, and his fingertips are burning against Zenigata’s skin, who pulls him closer. He hears Lupin moan into his mouth, wonders how anyone can survive this, how anyone can simply live their lives and be so full of love. He thinks maybe all of the poets have been wrong, and no one has ever felt love like he does. 

Lupin brushes against one of Zenigata’s scar on his abdomen, and his fingers stop there. He runs them over and over again on the sensitive skin, and Zenigata hears himself whine against Lupin’s lips. Lupin pulls back, and Zenigata reluctantly lets him go. The thief looks incredibly sad all of a sudden, and Zenigata doesn’t get it, wants to kiss the sadness off. Lupin looks guilty, takes his finger back.

“Does it still hurt?”

Zenigata doesn’t get it immediately, looks down at Lupin’s hands still pressed flat on his stomach. Oh. 

“No, it doesn’t. It’s okay Lupin.”

Lupin looks away, and Zenigata reaches for him, cups his face in his hands. It’s incredibly important that Lupin understands this, doesn’t shy away from what he’s about to say.   
“Hey Lupin, it’s alright. We hurt each other through the years, but we’re ok now. And I hurt you too.” He drags his finger down to Lupin’s shoulder, lets them wander around until he feels the relief of an old gunshot wound, slowly presses down.

“I’m sorry about it too, I’m sorry I hurt you. But I don’t want you to get into a dark place because of all of your guilt. Because I don’t think I could reach you in there. I want you to stay with me Lupin, where scars are just scars and not still bleeding all over. Can you do that, can you stay right there with me?”

Lupin looks back up at him with such an intense look in his eyes Zenigata wants to look away. But that would hypocritical, after what he just said. So he remains unwavering, stares deep into the darkness in Lupin’s eyes, knows he won’t get lost in it. And he can see Lupin slowly come back into himself. And the thief bends down, tenderly kisses him, whispers some “sorry” and a lot of “thank you” over and over again against his lips.

Later again, they’re picking Zenigata’s ripe tomatoes. Lupin’s holding a basket, and Zenigata’s putting them into it, and Zenigata thinks he’s so happy he’ll just explode right there and now, and he’ll be fine with it. It’d be a fine way to die, than to burst with happiness, picking at tomatoes under the hot afternoon sky with Lupin the Third.

Later, they’re baking a tomato pie. Even later, they’re eating it together in Zenigata’s room, holded up on his small bed like two teenagers hanging out away from their parents, like this meal is a secret to be kept confined in between these 4 walls. And even later, Zenigata tastes the tomato again on Lupin’s lips. It tastes like happiness.

Later, sitting on the grass together, and Lupin is tenderly kissing him, all slow and romantic. Zenigata thinks his heart will crawl out of his mouth and into the other man’s, that this maybe will be how he dies. Lupin pulls back, a wild grin on.

“So I’ve just realised; You’re definitely the “no sex before marriage type’ uh?”

Zenigata is about to argue against that assessment, to say that he definitely doesn't need to marry Lupin for him to do whatever he wants to him right now, but then Lupin cradles his face in his hands, stars in his eyes, and the words that he says next completely melt Zenigata.

"Oh my god, we should totally get married!"

Fireworks set off in poor old Zenigata chest. He desperately shoves his mouth against Lupin's, tries to pour all of his love for him down his throat. But then a little buzzkiller of a thought comes knocking at the edge of his mind. 

"Wait wait wait." He pushes himself away from Lupin, tries to catch his breath. "Lupin we can't get married. Were both men, at least as far as the state is concerned. "

"You think I give a single fuck about what the state thinks?" Lupin's grin is wild, the same that he gets when he's planning a new scheme, and no, Zenigata doesn’t think Lupin gives a single fuck about what the state thinks, especially when Lupin wraps his arms around Zenigata’s neck and pulls him into a messy kiss.

Zenigata forgets about it, thinks it was maybe just a joke. But then Lupin actually starts to plan a wedding, and Zenigata loves him more than any human being has ever loved anyone. He’s sure of it. His heart sings up to the stars anytime the sun shines down on Lupin’s profile, or anytime the thief looks at him, or smiles or sneezes or does anything really. Zenigata is in a constant state of bliss, all because of the idiot who stole his heart.

______________________

But all the same, Lupin is planning a wedding. And to plan a wedding, he needs help. So he calls up Jigen. The phone rings for far too long, so much so that Lupin is about to give up, thinking that the gunman simply isn't home, when Goemon picks up, voice hoarse and heavy.

"Goemon Ishikawa speaking."

"Goemon, hi! Listen, this is Lupin, can you put Jigen on the phone if he's here?"

There's a long pause.

"Goemon?"

"Uh yeah yeah, he's here. Hold on."

He hears unidentifiable background noise and then Jigen's clearing his throat in his ear.

"Hey Jigen, listen I need your help for…"

"Listen Lupin, this is kind of a bad time." His voice is even hoarser than Goemon's, and he keeps taking breaks between his words to breathe. Is he hurt?

"Jigen are you ok?"

"Yeah yeah I'm fine. Listen let me call you back I’m kinda...tied up in the middle of something right now." And he hears the combine being hang up.

He explains the whole exchange to Zenigata who looks at him with wide eyes, before laughing loudly.

"Lupin oh my god they're fucking."

“What? No way, Goemon doesn't even know what sex is."

"Lupin they've been fucking for months. I can’t believe you haven’t noticed. You’d make an absolutely terrible inspector you know"

"Well I guess we’re lucky I’m the thief then. But wait, wait, they’ve been fucking? Without telling me? And without me?"

Zenigata looks choked, a bit upset. Lupin isn’t sure which part is an exaggerated joke and which part is real, but he knows the cop usually wears his expression on his face like a book, so he quickly backpedals.

“Don’t look upset, I can be a one man’s man! I bet I’d be very good at monogamy. Never tried it really, but I’m great at new things!”

Later, he does manage to get a hold of Jigen, and asks him if he knows how to get a his hands on a priest. Jigen does, because of course he does. And Fujiko brings the dress. And so they get married in this small village, by a priest Jigen fucking kidnapped.

______________________

Zenigata kept the wig, so Lupin puts it on as well as the dress.The bright red dress covered in diamonds, that’s worth 30 million dollars and that’s honestly kind of ugly. It’s not ugly on Mary though, and Zenigata’s heart is in his hands, he’s ready to give it to her right here at the autel. It’s a small ceremony, because there’s not a lot of people that can know about Zenigata and Lupin the third’s wedding. Jigen, Goemon and Fujiko are all here, of course. And there’s also the old couple running the village’s hotel, as well as the postwoman. She’s crying like a proud mother.

Zenigata’s crying too, can’t help himself. It’s not wailing, but silent tears running down his cheeks, falling down in droplets on his tuxedo Lupin stole just for him, with the promise to give it back right after the wedding. He’s holding Mary’s hands in his, as well as Lupin’s. The thief is smiling up at him like he’s looking at the most gorgeous sight he’s ever laid his eyes on. And that’s impossible, because that’s what Zenigata is doing. Lupin seems to remember something, grabs at the wig and throws it at the crowd, like it’s the bouquet future brides need to catch. It hits Goemon right in the face, and Jigen barks out a laugh. 

The priest is looking like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, which is probably true. He still says the words though. Lupin says yes to everything, a wild grin on.

“And would you, Koichi Zenigata, take this…” He looks at Mary, squints his eyes, tries to see Lupin. The thief shrugs, goes right back to looking at Zenigata. “Man? to be your…” The priest looks at the end of his rope, so Zenigata throws him a hand..

“Try spouse maybe?”

“Right.” The priest sighs. “Will you take this man to be your lawfully.” He makes air quotes around the word lawfully. “Wedded spouse?” 

Zenigata is choking on his tears at this point, grabs on to Lupin’s hands to try to stay uprights.   
“Yes! Yes god of course I do.”

“Then you may kiss the…” But Lupin already jumped on Zenigata, is sloppily making out with him, and the priest gives up. 

Later, they’re dancing, and Lupin’s head is nested against his heart, and Zenigata thinks it was always meant to rest right here, that his arms were always meant to hold Lupin’s body. He thinks everything before was just the painfully long introduction to their lives, and that this, right now is everything that deserves to be told: Lupin’s heart against his heartbeat, their feet slowly moving in rhythm, and their fingers intertwined. This, and only this, is everything that ever mattered. He kisses Lupin’s forehead, smiles against it, and everything is right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll try to get the next chapter out as soon as possible. Commentaries and kudos are incredibly apreciated and keep me going. You can come chat with me @kimodraw on twitter if you want. It's a lawless land where i rt a bunch of lupin stuff


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